


Indomitable

by azure_horizon



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, death of a child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:12:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 44,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure_horizon/pseuds/azure_horizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season Four AU. John and Teyla have a hard time staying together, and an even harder time staying apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Due to recent interest in this old fic of mine, I decided to compile all the individual stand alones into one long, chaptered fic. The order of the chapters is the order in which they were written. The timeline jumps around and, as a result, there are some issues of continuity. Over the next few weeks I'm hoping to edit this fic, iron out the kinks in time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Lifeline

"Sir." Colonel Stephen Caldwell looked up as a young air man entered his peripherals. He'd been staring down at the cold, empty Gate room for some time now – possibly hours – trying to comprehend the events of the last few days. The _Daedalus_ had arrived at the new home of Atlantis mere hours before and he'd promptly sent it back to Earth with a skeleton crew and as many Atlantis team members as the ship could hold. The death of Dr Elizabeth Weir – he daren't think it as anything else, lest he drive himself mad – had put some things into perspective for many in the expedition; almost all had asked to be allowed to head back to Earth to see their families and friends, even if it was just for an hour.

"Lang," he eventually acknowledged the young officer as he slowly turned towards him.

"You wanted me to report the two life sign readings, sir." He looked to his watch and was startled to find that four a.m. had been and gone. "They haven't moved for the past two and a half hours, sir."

He nodded in dismissal and the young man pivoted and walked away,

Caldwell had seen Teyla look over the sensor readings with a pinched expression on her face. He'd wondered what she'd been looking for but a part of him knew that the lone dot on the end of the pier was Colonel Sheppard. He'd watched for a while as a second dot slowly made its way to the other.

He'd let them have their space. After all, there had to be a reason why Sheppard wasn't amongst the ones to ask for a return trip to Earth.

But now they'd been out there for far too long in the bitingly cold conditions that had gripped this new home world; the outdoor balconies even had frost on the unheated railings. He couldn't wait to hear McKay's complaints about the _numerous_ things that could be 'wrong' with the planet. He sighed as he shook his head and began to walk in the direction of the pier, bypassing some of the transporters for the shorter journeys, preferring to keep his body active.

The corridors were eerily silent and he was glad to step out onto the dimmed balcony, even though he did instantly wrap his thin jacket tighter around him in a vain attempt to ward off the chill. The icy air almost took his breath away. Through the darkness he saw two figures huddled under a blanket, illuminated by the translucent moon's cold rays.

He stopped to look over them as their figures came more into view as he approached. Their shoulders were touching, bodies pressed together almost intimately. Sheppard's head was tilted at an awkward angle resting atop Teyla's whose was resting against his chest. Their faces were blank canvases, their eyelids unmoving and if it hadn't been for the life signs he'd seen not ten minutes ago, he'd have thought them dead. He smiled forlornly at the picture they painted; they looked so lost huddled together on the farthest corner of the City. Their tranquillity pained him with its romanticism.

He almost didn't want to wake them up.

He moved closer, trying to be as loud as possible so Sheppard wouldn't spring up and take him out. He dropped his hand onto the young Colonel's shoulder expecting a jolt but the boy didn't even stir. Caldwell frowned good naturedly at that: so much for military training. The poor soldier must be exhausted, he mused. Caldwell shook the shoulder in his grasp lightly and tried to ignore the coldness that seeped into his fingers.

Grey eyes blinked up at him lethargically before sliding shut again.

"Colonel?" The younger man's voice sounded hoarse to Caldwell's ears. "What's wrong?" Caldwell smirked at the fact that although Sheppard assumed something was wrong he made no attempt to get up.

Caldwell shook his head and tried to smile through the onset of exhaustion. Suddenly, his eyelids seemed too heavy, his body wanting to shut down. It had been a long few days waiting to discover the fate of Atlantis and an even longer night when he'd finally made it there.

"I think you'd be more comfortable indoors?"

He gestured behind him with a jerk of his head and he saw a slow easy smile cross the younger man's face as he nodded slowly.

"It _is_ kind of chilly out here," Sheppard murmured with a heavy, sleep-laden voice.

Caldwell thought of his chilled, bald head and could only nod in agreement. He straightened and moved away, a fatherly smile crossing his lips as he observed John close his eyes once more. As he walked back towards the doors that led to the balcony he paused and looked skywards, stopping for a rare moment of wonderment to take in the astounding beauty of the city of Atlantis. He only wished he was able to spend more time there. He turned back, his eyes catching the ethereal halo of the four visible moons. He saw in the moons milky glow John turn his head into the young Athosian leaders', nudging her slightly with his nose.

Murmurs floated across the air and he sighed as he saw the two huddle closer together for a moment before he retreated into the hallway.

He would let them have their moment.


	2. Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> episodes: Missing, Outcast, Be All My Sins Remember'd

John closed the piece of paper in his hand, scrunching it up into a tiny ball. There was really only so much a man could take and he was sure he'd by now had his fill. There really was only so much the universe could throw at him in the space of a year and he was pretty damn certain he'd caught most of it without dropping a single thing. He'd kept his composure but now he felt like he was going to bend so far backwards under the weight on his shoulders that he might actually snap in two.

He felt his chest constricting and quenched the unwanted and unwelcome desire for a large bottle of whisky – it would do no one any good for him to fall onto a path he'd so painstakingly gouged himself out of years before.

But God, it felt like it would be so easy, so much better for him to just open up his favourite malt and take a few swigs. He was glad he hadn't brought any to Atlantis with him.

He punched the wall instead. He winced slightly when he looked at his knuckles and saw bubbles of blood. It didn't hurt though. He pounded the wall again and winced when he felt something crack.

He flopped backwards onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. He could feel his eyes well up with something akin to tears but he did not allow them to fall. He couldn't. He had no right to think that any of these people wanted or needed tears from him.

He unclenched his fist and brought out the single piece of paper. He re-read the too few lines, closed his eyes and shook his head, breathing heavily through his nostrils. He launched it childishly across the room.

He had no right to be jealous. He'd lost claims on her years before when he'd got up and left her but that didn't mean it was any less difficult for him to hear that she was getting married to another man. He'd always thought she'd be there for him if he ever wanted her back. It was such an unfair way to think of his ex-wife.

He kicked the end of his mattress with the back of his heel. He got no pleasure from it.

Only she could hit him with a double whammy in the space of three or four sentences. He could hear the silent plea in her words: for him to come and for him to stay away. But how could he not go to his father's funeral? True, he hadn't spoken to him for years but that didn't lessen the fact that he was family, he was his blood... and he was dead. He hitched a shaky breath at that.

Damn, Nancy.

In the past year, he'd lost not one but _three_ best friends; two of which there was no possibility of return. Carson, who'd been taken so brutally, so instantaneously that it still felt like a part of his heart had been ripped out. He was one of John's best friends, even though they'd spent less time together before the end. John had blamed Rodney – though he'd never, ever tell him that – until he'd realised that he, too, then was equally to blame. Hadn't they _all_ declined invites to the fishing trip?

It didn't make it any easier when Elizabeth had been taken by the Replicators. Their leader and their friend was gone. The expedition seemed to have forgotten that she had ever really existed – no real rescue mission had been mobilised and John admitted that he had been part of the ones to not quite forget, but not make a point of remembering.

And Teyla… He didn't want to think about why he'd lost her.

" _Yes, I am with child."_

He shuddered. He really had no reason to be jealous because he'd never let her in on just how deep his feelings ran for the Athosian; hell, he'd gone and fucked quite a number of alien women and not given any regard for her feelings.

Still, he'd rather she did that than find someone she _cared_ about. That's what hurt him the most. It wasn't that she was sleeping with someone – okay, so maybe it was – but that she actually _cared_ for the guy. He'd never cared for any of the women he'd been with. And now she was pregnant.

And her people – the father of her child – were gone.

He'd been less than there for her. He'd avoided her, actually, ever since she'd told him of her 'joyous' news. But he just couldn't bear to be near her, knowing that she was thinking of another. They'd never asked for either to wait… Hell, they'd never asked each other to start, let alone wait for one another. And since Carson and Elizabeth... since his and Teyla's 'moments'... he would never admit, now, just how much those had meant to him. How much they _mean_ to him.

He'd thought they'd meant something to her too.

He should have just told her how he felt then he wouldn't be feeling any of these things he was now.

He sighed and sat up. He looked to his hand and saw that blood was dripping from his fingers onto the floor beside his bed. He shook his head again and closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fist.

Now it hurt.

After he'd visited the infirmary, grunted any answer he had to the poor nurse who'd been charged to take care of him, he made his way to the mess hall. His stomach had growled at him since he left his room. A marine jostled him as he picked up a sandwich and he smiled before turning to where he'd seen Ronon standing when he'd entered.

His step faltered slightly. There she was, in all her beautiful pregnant glory and he lowered his eyes from where they'd met hers.

It hurt. More than he'd ever admit.

As he approached the table, she stood and brushed past him without glancing his way. His head followed her instinctively but he kept his eyes firmly off her form.

There was only so much a man could take and John Sheppard was finding it difficult to breathe.


	3. Realisation

"Have either of you seen Sheppard?"

Teyla looks up as Ronon steps up to the table she and Rodney were currently residing at. She shakes her head; she has not seen John since the supplies came through from Earth; though that in itself was not unusual, she rarely sees him outside of their missions anymore. Or, more accurately, since she told him that she was pregnant.

Teyla is not blind and even if she was, she would be able to feel the waves of jealousy rolling off of him whenever they were together. It is infuriating as he had not (has never) made any indication to Teyla that he held romantic feelings for her. Cetainly, there had been moments when she had thought that there could be something between them, that he could have felt some kind of romantic attachment to her but she refused to be the woman he turned to only when he needed her, never allowing her to move on, nor giving her what she truly wanted, or needed.

"I haven't seen him since he got that letter from his wife."

Teyla stops chewing then, her eyes fixing on the spoon in front of her. It feels like she has been hit with a Wraith stunner. She can feel her face drain of all blood. Her fingers feel leaden. She hears her spoon clatter as it drops back into her bowl of jello.

 _His wife?_

"Ex-wife, Rodney. She's his ex-wife," Ronon clarifies, his eyes fixed on Teyla's still form.

She looks up and sees him enter the mess hall. Her eyes follow him as he lifts a sandwich from the tray. She watches as he smiles to one of the marines and turns to the table where they are seated. She sees him see her and then falter – if only slightly, not enough for the other's to notice. But she does. She sees the way his eyes drop from hers, how his smile dips at the edges.

She realises, now, why he can't be near her. It's the same reason she doesn't want to be near him now.

All the women, all the nights he'd spent in others' beds meant nothing to him, (and not really much to her either) because he didn't care about them. But the thought of him having someone he cared about… someone he loved who wasn't her… it ached, deep within her heart.

She excuses herself as he approaches the table.

She reaches the corridor outside before she allows herself to breathe again.


	4. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Doppelganger, Missing

Silence was his only company out on the main balcony.

That and the cool wind that wafted through the short strands of his hair. He closed his eyes against the almost sensual feel of it. There was something very strange about the events of the past few days and he only wished he could put his finger on what it was. Clearly Teyla was upset on her return from New Athos; her people had just vanished into thin air so she had a reason to be but she and Keller had been entirely too secretive for John to be entirely comfortable around them together. And well, when he was alone with Teyla she was as jumpy as a jitter bug and he couldn't really get her to look at him, let alone talk to him. He wanted to be able to help her.

And how he'd tried. He'd gone to the infirmary and instead of the usual cajoling banter they shared, she'd barely looked at him and had been curt at best when she had. He'll admit that it hurt – quite a lot more than it should, probably – but when a person lived on Atlantis with the same people for four years, they came to know one another. And John knew Teyla and he knew that something was wrong. She hadn't wanted to spar with him that morning, citing a head ache (the last time she'd used that she'd been suffering nightmares in which he'd been the big bad monster) and wandered off down the stairs. He'd wanted to go after her but he hadn't; he'd just stayed there on the stairs, staring after her in confusion.

He couldn't help but feel she was pulling away from him – not just because she had lost her people but he could see something lurking underneath the cool exterior of her mask. And if the lingering stares Keller was prone to giving him when he walked past was anything to go by he was damn sure it had something to do with Teyla's health.

He had a right to know. Maybe he could convince Carter to order Teyla to tell him what was wrong.

He snorted. Right. He'd be as well signing his own execution order instead.

He groaned and leaned his head against his forearms that were leaning on the cool rail in front of him. The chill winter that had settled over the new home of Atlantis some months ago was finally beginning to lift and he was able to touch the metal outside without fear of his hand getting stuck. He tilted his head so his chin rested on his forearms and he stared across the glittering azure waves of the sea. The sun was lingering low in the sky despite the early afternoon hour, casting a haze of violet and pink, yellow and orange across his face and the glorious city below him, setting it alight in a magical way that could only be alien. The light caught the edge of a few waves breaking off the south pier and they glistened brilliant white in the perfect sea. A few stars were beginning to litter the far horizon and he remembered that it used to be Venus that shone above the setting Sun; now he didn't know the name of a single star, let alone a constellation. He'd never wanted to either, until now.

He'd been out on the balcony for hours and no one had come to find him, nor called him on the radio. He grunted at that; sometimes Atlantis was far too much like Earth where none of his family really paid any mind to him, nor ever thought to seek him out. He wondered if he would always be alone; Rodney had his work and his other science geeks (though he'd never admit to actually _talking_ to them); Teyla'd had her people and now she had Ronon and Ronon had her – both the obvious outcasts of the group. But it was their outcast-ness that drew them together and left John out in the wilderness by himself. At one point, he thought he'd had Teyla too but now she was gone and he didn't even know why.

He'd rather be alone, anyway. He always had been – even when he'd been married. He operated better by himself; that way, he didn't have to explain himself.

He sighed again and dropped to his _derrière_ , sliding his ankles out through the gap in the bars, slinging his arms through as well. He heaved a sigh and fought down the almost indomitable urge to run around, stomping his feet, screaming at how unfair the world was being to him.

He was exhausted and he just wanted to lie down and sleep for a very, very long time.

Ever since Carter had come to Atlantis, she'd relied on his 'expertise' but hadn't he been the one to turn down the job because his 'expertise' was not as great as everyone thought? He felt like he was holding her hand, getting her used to the place, guiding her through all the different things that could go wrong and it was tiresome. She should know how to handle the things that could go wrong – she'd worked in the SGC for nigh on ten years. He sighed again. He liked Carter, he really did but he just wanted her to be the leader she'd come to Atlantis to be.

He wanted a lot of things, really.

"Sheppard."

He turned his head around slowly, resting his chin on his triceps and stared up at the intrusion on his solitude with tired eyes. Ronon stood, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest, staring down at his commanding officer. John turned away. He didn't want Ronon. Not right then, anyway.

"What's up, Ronon?"

He heard the gentle thud of Ronon's steps as he walked closer to John. Hopefully the Satedan would leave him alone. John snorted – loudly – at that; hadn't he, moments before, been complaining about the fact that none of his team had come to find him? And now that one had come, he wanted peace and silence once again.

He wasn't usually so fussy really. But he was tired and confused and had been left to himself for far too long. The damage had already been done; he was grumpy and downright irritable.

"I was talking to Teyla." John grunted and nodded in return, never removing his eyes from the horizon. He wondered how long it would take to reach it. But then he shook his head and glanced down at his childish thought – he knew that the horizon would keep going; that it was only there because the world tilted away from him. He frowned at the morbidity of that thought. "She's pregnant."

John didn't move for a very long time. He was pretty sure he didn't breathe either. When he eventually turned his head – opened his eyes – Ronon was gone and the Sun had dipped below the edge of the planet.

He let out a long, low breath.

There were a lot of things John Sheppard wanted. Silence wasn't one of them.


	5. Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Doppelganger, Seer, Missing

The tiny sliver of light dipped below the horizon, sank under the bulky waves, carried down by the planet's heavy atmosphere. The sky was an inky blue, speckled with tiny pin-pricks of light. Thin milky clouds acted as a bulwark against the imposing darkness of night. A shiver ran down his spine as a cool wind whipped around the towers of Atlantis. The city behind him was dim, only a few lights on full, the rest set to sleep mode yet his body could not do the same.

He'd been awake for almost thirty six hours now; his mind refused to allow his body's demands for sleep. Whenever he lay down in his bed he would suddenly be wide awake and he'd sit up, despite the aching in the base of his skull that had quickly enveloped the rest of his body. The world often tilted on its axis and he would have to grip onto the railing beside him – which was concerning, considering he was sitting down. His eyes focussed on the obsidian sea and he was sure he could see something bobbing about in it but he knew it was his mind playing tricks on his eyes. He sighed, yawned loudly and closed his eyes.

On the blank canvas of his eyelids he could see her, hear her attempts to tell him news that he'd already heard. He hadn't said anything, not really. He'd just mumbled something akin to "congratulations" and fled. That had been almost two days ago when she'd shown up at his door after he'd managed to drag himself inside from his secret hidey-hole. He shook his head at the thought; he'd left her standing in the middle of his quarters, scared and alone – how very gentlemanly of him. He'd tried to give himself a shake, citing that he was supposed to be her friend, that he should be happy for her that she'd found a life for herself.

But he wasn't. And it wasn't just because the guy wasn't around – okay, so maybe the guy had a good reason to not be around but it was still lame. He didn't want to acknowledge what his reaction could mean. It hurt to think of her and he didn't just mean it figuratively hurt – it literally did. His stomach tightened into a tiny little knot and swayed from side to side, his head hurt at the thought of her with another man, his knees buckled when he thought of a life growing inside of her, a life that wasn't a part of him. And that last thought, that had scared him. He'd _never_ wanted children – it had been a point of contention between him and Nancy in the latter part of their marriage – and suddenly he was wishing death upon a guy who he'd been quite happy to save on more than one occasion.

He'd admit he'd had dark thoughts about this Kanoe guy, thinking that Teyla would still be his if the intrusive Athosian had been culled. It was quite possibly the worst thing he'd ever thought.

But he supposed the pregnancy did throw some things into sharp perspective for members of the expedition; so much life had been lost in the past year – in the past _four_ years – that this little burst of happiness was welcomed news. And he was sure that somewhere in his heart he could find it in him to be happy for her. He had to be. He'd dedicate the resources of Earth to finding her people if it meant that she would smile once more; if she could bring her child up in a stable family unit. And if Kanan was how that unit would be complete, then he'd do it.

It didn't mean he wanted to though. If he was honest, he was pretty sure he wanted to beat the utter crap out of the guy. But then he'd have Teyla to deal with. He sighed. Cons on every side. He glanced to the horizon again and saw that the indigo sky was lightening from behind him, signalling the return of the dominant orb to his cycle to reach Elysium and preside over the sky. He loved the idea that the two (or in this case six) orbs chased each other through the sky in an endless race that always wound up with the return of the Sun. The lilac haze spread across the sky quickly erasing all traces of night (in the standard twenty-four Earth hours the expedition was used to, there was five nights and six periods of daylight - it played havoc on the sleeping routines), the last stars fading away for another few hours rest. Shards of golden light ripped the azure horizon into strips, scorching the clouds from the sky.

He could feel the heat already and closed his eyes, welcoming the warmth as it chased the chill away.

He opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times, squinting against the insistent light. He must have dozed off. From the corner of his eye he could make out a dark figure and he turned towards it. Colonel Carter stood beside him dressed in jogging trousers and a large sweater, her hair tied back away from her face and a small amused frown on her face.

"I couldn't sleep," he groaned and stood up, stretching his back. It really did no good falling asleep hunched over metal rods. He winced as Carter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it looked like you were having trouble there," she said in a quiet voice. Although the Sun was fully in the sky, it was still well before six a.m. Earth time so not many people in Atlantis would be up and about. He was surprised to see Carter out and about, considering the week they'd had. "You have a..." she pointed to her forehead and John clumsily lifted a hand there and smiled sheepishly.

It also did no good to fall asleep with one's head leaning against said metal bars, he thought.

"You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep." He nodded. He definitely knew that feeling. "Though I still found my bed to be a lot more comfortable thinking spot than an uncomfortable, public balcony," she said knowingly and John glanced away.

It wasn't that he didn't like Carter, it was just that he didn't really know her. Not enough to feel comfortable with her giving him advice. Though he wasn't sure her sentence construed as advice. Actually, he wasn't sure he was even making sense in his own mind. He felt his shoulders sag, felt his knees protest against keeping him held up for so long. He really needed to lay down.

"I should probably... go," he muttered as signalled inside with his finger.

Carter nodded and he returned the gesture before brushing past her, sending her a cursory – albeit tired – smile. He reached the door and was surprised to hear her calling his name. He turned to her and waited, not really caring to interpret the look of sympathy on her face.

"I..." She faltered slightly and he raised his eyebrows. "It took me almost marrying someone else before Jack and I finally realised just how much we... cared for one another."

She didn't say anything else; just smiled, nodded and jogged away.

He didn't move for quite some time; he was pretty sure he had just imagined the conversation that had just taken place because there was no way Carter had just said to him what he thought she said to him. What was it with people thinking he had a thing for Teyla? That her pregnancy bothered him beyond the norm?

And as he walked towards his quarters he confirmed to himself through a series of complicated thought processes that he did in fact _not_ have a thing for Teyla Emmagan.

He was pretty sure 'thing' didn't quite cover it.


	6. Celestial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Doppelganger, Seer, Missing

John stood guard over the silent gate room. The city had gone to sleep hours before but he'd felt the urge to come here to the quiet hub of Atlantis and watch over the slumbering city. He'd been having trouble sleeping recently and he found that watching over the slow burning embers of the city helped him relax. The low hum of various machines soothed the aching in his head; the low lighting eased his troubled mind and the solitude eased the burning in his soul. It was a song he'd become familiar with, since the cold nights had returned to Atlantis.

A few people came and went, passing through quietly, nodding to him occasionally but most of the time he was left to himself, his thoughts passing slowly through the blank canvas of his mind. The flickering lights before him left him in an unusually melancholy mood as he was reminded of happier times back on Earth; times when Christmas meant coming home to his family, not being stuck in a galaxy far, far away. When he'd been a boy, his family Christmas always consisted of a huge dinner at his home, with all the family gathering around a tree set up beside the roaring fire to exchange gifts. In a way, he missed those times.

He didn't know how she'd managed it, to be honest but he was glad – it probably helped that she _knew_ the man in charge of Home World security. Too often the holidays were bypassed in Atlantis; it had been accepted that the expedition was multi-cultural and not all the members celebrated the birth of Christ. But when they'd been asked, they'd had no objections with the expedition celebrating Christmas. He was sure that the events of the past year had lain heavily on their minds and a glimmer of hope, of happiness in the city was welcomed.

The tree had been erected to the right hand side of the 'Gate earlier that day. The blue-fir had been transported to Atlantis by the Daedalus from a nearby planet, the decorations hand-picked by Carter from a magazine and delivered courtesy of the midway station. The silver and blue surface of the baubles glittered as the twinkling lights reflected off their surface; the fine dusting of fake snow gave it that final touch. It stood higher than the gate, the star at the top placed delicately there by Rodney as they'd hovered near the tree in a Jumper. He liked the star the most out of all the decorations – it held his wonder for long moments as it changed from silver to light blue to navy depending on how the starry lights flickered against it.

It was only a few weeks until Christmas now and John had the desire to return to Earth to spend some time with his ex-wife, with the brother who he'd been reacquainted with not so many weeks ago. He wanted to be near his family, yet he didn't want to leave his friends. The air of Atlantis was pressing hard against his shoulders and he felt like he was suffocating. Christmas always made him feel depressed because it reminded him of everything he'd lost. He never sent any Christmas cards, never mind gifts. He didn't _get_ any either, for that matter. He sighed as he looked at the tree again, at the spattering of gifts underneath its huge protecting branches.

A shard of milky light draped across the floor and John turned to the window to see that the moon had emerged from behind its covering cloud. He was glad that the temperatures had once again dipped on the planet; it would have been very strange to celebrate Christmas in the heat. Frost had gathered on the balconies again, clustering against the windows; normally the windows had a defroster but Carter had it turned off to add to the festive theme. He could see the falling frost glittering against the diaphanous glow of the moon and he stared at it, letting the sight mesmerise him. It really was amazing, he thought turning away as the moon slid behind an icy cloud.

His eyes fell on Teyla standing down in the gate room watching the tree as he had been. He hadn't even heard her arrival. He felt the familiar pang in his chest and the tightening in his gut at the sight of her. He didn't try to quash it for it had never done any good. She looked radiant in the glow. He didn't try to pretend that it didn't still hurt. She had a lugubrious look on her face as she stared at the symbol of happiness and he felt an ache in heart develop. He couldn't stand seeing her like that but it was something they'd become accustomed to recently.

Months had passed since her people had disappeared and there'd been no sign of them at all. It was both concerning and frustrating that any lead they got turned up cold. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like for her to be the last of her people, to carry the weight of generations of life on her heart. He kept his eyes on her as she moved from one end of the gate room to the other, not one glancing in his direction. He took a step back into the relative shade, away from the edge and watched her from the shadows. It was a little morbid – if not a little creepy – of him to be watching her like this; he didn't really want to talk to her, he just wanted to watch her, look at her, make sure she was okay.

He watched as she approached the tree, sliding something out from the inside of the long cardigan she wore and placed it under the tree. Curious, he almost took and step forward but he stopped when he saw her finger the small angel decoration that he'd chosen and swipe at her eyes with her other hand. He felt his breath catch in his throat and he swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. She'd asked him gently what the purpose of the tree was, then what the little ornament symbolised; he'd said it was his guardian angel that he'd kept ever since he was a little boy. She'd smiled sadly; her eyes following his hand as he'd hooked the small ornament onto the branch then left without saying another word.

He didn't want to acknowledge the overwhelming sadness he'd felt at the absence of her presence beside him in front of the huge tree. Ever since he'd gone to Earth and muttered those indomitable words in his mind, he'd been stuck between a rock and a hard place; he wanted to be near her because he... well, just because and he felt like he should be there as her friend but another part of him, the side that... well... wouldn't let him be near her without snaring his heart and punching him in the stomach, jiggling his legs and altering his breathing.

Now she stood there, murmuring an almost silent song to herself, her quiet voice reaching his welcoming ears. His heart struck a rapid beat, his eyes stung with the threat of a few traitorous tears. He glanced away from her, to the door that swished open beside him and he wanted nothing more than to throttle the poor scientist who'd interrupted their moment. He nodded, kept his voice low and waited until the young woman had passed before he turned his eyes back to Teyla and the tree.

The space she'd occupied was empty. He took a sudden step forward and leaned over the railing in search of her figure but she was nowhere to be seen. He sighed and dropped his head to his chest, hunching his shoulders as he gripped the metal barrier. He closed his eyes and cursed himself. He should just have spoken to her, that way he wouldn't have this feeling of guilt weighing down on him.

He let out a quiet roar of frustration at himself.

The moon sliced through the sky again and the beam reflected off the shiny paper of the gift Teyla had placed under the tree. Curiosity one him over and he strode down the stair, looking left to right to make sure no one was hiding in the corners. As he approached, he felt a little guilty at his snooping ways – gifts were private things and he had no right to go and inspect hers. He didn't even know who it was for. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought of her putting a gift under the tree for Kanan. He paused for a moment then, the thought lingering in his mind. Was it better that he know, or should he just turn and walk away? He studied the tree again and frowned.

No. He'd rather know.

He leaned down onto his knees and fingered the gift and the tag, fumbling it about in his fingers. Quickly, he turned it over, peering at it through half closed eyes. Then he smiled.

 _John Sheppard._

Satisfied, he stood and took a step back, glancing over the spectacle of the tree once more before turning and walking away. What he missed however, was Teyla, standing on the balcony, a small smile on her face.

Guardian angel, indeed.


	7. Absolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Missing, Seer, This Mortal Coil, Be All My Sins Remember'd, Outcast, Miller's Crossing

"John?" He turned around slightly, shifting his upper body only. He smiled in her direction but he knew it didn't reach his eyes. He turned back again, hanging his head low and staring at the beer bottle in front of him, slowly peeling the label off. "It's freezing out here."

He started as her voice came from right beside him but he didn't turn towards her. He heaved a heavy sigh and glanced up at the loaded sky. The night would have been black had he been back on Atlantis, but the pollution of the city lights brightened the sky with an orange glow, highlighting the thick brown clouds in the sky; he felt as though he could reach out and touch them with his finger they were that low in the sky.

The house behind him was bustling, which was part of the reason he found himself on the porch in the first place. That and the couple of beers he'd had had settled him into a mood so melancholy, he hadn't wanted to pollute the rest of the cheerful crowd. He could hear music mixing together from several houses, a disastrous cacophony that rattled his pounding head.

"It's not so bad," he murmured with a half smile in her direction. He knew she didn't buy it.

"For those of us who haven't spent time in the Antarctic, this is cold," she returned with a small half smile of her own. The smile fell flat on his lips, the small gurgle of laughter died in his throat. He could feel her eyes watching him and he scrunched his face uncomfortably. He really hated the way she was looking at him. He wrinkled his eyes and turned his head away from her, glancing down the street. It was the typical American dream family home, rolling lawns, large driveways, huge porches, the roadside lined with trees... There was a time he'd wanted all of that too. "You can't hide from me, John," she murmured and he felt her hand on his thigh. He glanced at it and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

He'd met her _fiancé_ for the first time earlier that day. He'd have to say he was surprised by just how un-Nancy like he seemed but as she said, he was safe, reliable and he loved her. He'd asked if she loved him and she'd admonished him and he'd sulked away. He knew then that she did and any hope of reconciliation between the two past lovers was way out of the question. He wasn't disappointed, not really, but he couldn't quite put into words just how much he'd wanted to just turn and walk out of the room when he'd been introduced to _Derek._ Derek, the tall, blond haired, blue eyed typical Miami Beach hunk who looked like he spent more time in the gym than even Ronon did. But the guy was all right, he admitted grudgingly, once he'd gotten to know him.

"What's wrong?"

He let out an admonishing laugh and sent a small glare at his ex-wife. What _wasn't_ wrong? He scrubbed his free hand down his face and followed it by lifting the almost empty bottle of beer to his lips. The past year had been the most difficult of John's life, beyond a doubt; battles on the home front with his ex-wife getting married, his father dying, reconciling with his brother had paled in comparison to the over-whelming weight of the decisions he'd made on the Atlantis-front. Not only had he left Elizabeth Weir behind the first time, he'd given the order to leave her behind again to a fate that was beyond comprehension. And then in that there was guilt outwith the actual decision making itself. She'd been alive the whole time and they'd failed to come up with a plan to rescue her. On top of that, there was the weight of the Athosians and the effect their disappearance was having on one of his friends'. He sighed. Then there was the way in which he'd convinced Henry Wallace to let the Wraith feed on him. And that led to the Wraith itself: he couldn't quite believe they were harbouring an enemy in an attempt to beat another enemy that was killing off aforementioned enemy.

"I've done a few things I'm not proud of," he murmured lowly, the anguish he felt hidden behind a wall tough from years of training. She didn't say anything and he was glad. He didn't want to hear her try to counsel him on things she had no idea about. He was glad Rodney had Jeannie to talk to. "I miss being here." He felt as well as saw her surprise at that. He let out a little laugh. "Especially at Christmas." He trailed off again, his eyes travelling skywards. He hated when the clouds distorted his view of the sky; it was his only sanctuary sometimes. He sighed again and lowered his eyes. "Go back inside, Nance; I'm not really good company just now."

He saw her shake her head and, secretly, he was glad. He enjoyed her company. They'd always been friends, even when their marriage was falling apart. She always managed to centre him, make him see the bigger picture and he loved that about her.

"Everyone deserves to have one day where they don't need to think about the mistakes of the past. You've come here to spend Christmas with those you love and instead you're sitting out here like a sulking little boy, demanding attention."

He felt anger rise from his gut at that.

"I am not-"

"I know you John Sheppard and I know the way you work. It may not have been attention from me you were wanting but it was attention none the less." He frowned and glared at her, his hazel eyes darkening with anger. "Oh, don't look at me like that."

He unfurled his face and stared at her blankly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He saw her raise an eyebrow at that and he mirrored it with one of his own. It took a few moments before he looked away; they were both just about as stubborn as one another.

"You always were a terrible liar, John Sheppard."

"And so were you."

"Only with you."

He turned to her then and felt a small, remembering smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He felt the warmth of her smile heat up his insides and he glanced away, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment. It had taken years for him to be able to hide his emotions and she was quickly, resolutely breaking down the walls he'd painstakingly erected after Afghanistan. He was beginning to think that he wanted her to. He let out his breath slowly, quietly and he ran his finger over his eyebrow gently in a well-worn nervous track. He felt her hand on his arm and he turned to her, seeing her eyes were shining with tears. He covered her hand with his and tugged her closer to him, draping his arm across her shoulders. He smiled in contentment and leant his head against hers as she rested against his chest.

A memory from months before arose unbidden in his mind, of a balcony on Atlantis, in winter, wrapped up with Teyla.

He sighed and tucked his head closer to Nancy's.

"Are you happy?" He shook his head almost imperceptibly and was glad when she didn't turn to look at him. "Why don't you come home?"

He turned his head into hers and waited until she turned her head up to look at him. He smiled at the peaceful look in her eyes and felt something in his gut tighten. He pushed the feeling away.

"Are you happy?" He felt her nod and he smiled, almost sadly, and tried to ignore the slight hitch in his heartbeat at her confession. "Then I won't be coming back here."

They were silent once again and they trained their eyes on the house across the street, neither willing to feel the weight of his confession on their hearts or on their minds. He breathed in deeply and let the scent of her wash over him. He was surprised at just how foreign it seemed to him. He'd expected to smell something more earthy, more homey. The moon crept out from behind a cloud and lit the pair in a dewy, ethereal light.

"Oh... I am sorry." John jumped away from Nancy quickly and turned to the voice that interrupted them and he was sure the guilt he was feeling had crept onto his face. "I did not mean to interrupt."

John was finding it difficult to come up with words to stop her from leaving and he was glad when Nancy spoke for him.

"It's okay, Teyla. I was just heading in anyway." She stood up and John gulped as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He heard her murmur a quick 'Merry Christmas' before smiling as she moved past Teyla and entered the house.

John didn't move as the door banged shut. He couldn't take his eyes off the Athosian. She looked angelic in the milky light from the moon. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He saw her standing uncertainly above him and he realised just how foolish he must have looked. He patted the spot on the step next to him and when she sat down and wrapped her cardigan around her belly as a shiver gripped her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

"Have you had a good time?" He asked quietly a few minutes later and he felt her nod against his shoulder. "Good."

They were silent again but John couldn't feel uncomfortable in her presence. Inviting her to Earth for Christmas had seemed like one of the most stupid ideas he'd ever had in his life while he'd been back on Atlantis but now... now he knew it was the right thing to do. Things had slowly started to get better between them but the uncomfortable tension still lingered between the pair. And he was kind of glad; it kept him on his toes, kept him from admitting things that he really shouldn't.

"Look!"

He opened his eyes at her childish excitement and saw the small white flecks meandering past his vision. He smiled and stuck a hand out past the shelter of the porch, feeling the fat blobs drop and melt there. He turned to see her do the same, while the other hand dropped to her stomach. He felt that pang again but thrust it away. He smiled at the joy on her face and found himself wrapped up in the moment.

And her.

He'd somehow managed to wrap both his arms around her and pull her to him. He felt her stiffen for a second before relaxing and wrapping her arms around him. It was slightly awkward as he had to lean over her rather large bump but it was worth it. He was about to let her go when her grip on him tightened and she murmured a few incomprehensible words into his shoulder. He was about to ask again when his throat dried and his eyes widened. The baby was kicking and he could feel it. A surge of excitement pounded through him and he let out an airy laugh.

"That's amazing," he whispered, reluctant to let her go.

"The magic, of Christmas, yes?" He smiled and nodded, pulling back from her slightly. He saw her smile at him slowly and he returned it. "Merry Christmas, John."

His smile broadened and he nodded, pulling her to him again.

"Merry Christmas, Teyla." He placed a kiss on her neck through the thick sheet of her hair and inhaled her scent.

There it was; earthier, warmer...

Home.


	8. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Missing, Seer, Outcast

John sighed as he sank into the comfortable leather chair. It was old, worn and almost tatty but he didn't care; it had been his favourite chair since he was about ten years old. The antiquated leather cushions seemed to welcome him back with open arms and he closed his eyes as he refamiliarised himself with the overwhelming comfort of the cuddling arms and back. He sighed in pleasure and bit into his bottom lip as he felt the muscles in his aching back relax.

He opened his eyes and gazed out at the blistering cold night. The snow was now lying thick and heavy on the ground, on the bare trees, on anything that could be covered. The fat flakes has thinned out and turned into small glaciers but had at least quadrupled in quantity. The orange glow of the streetlights glinted off the glistening blanket, slight winds gusted the snow around into tiny spirals, highlighting the glittering surface of the fluffy segments.

He loved snow.

He turned away from the window and settled his eyes on the large tree in front of him. Nancy had always been a perfectionist, even when she was trying to meld the old traditional baubles she'd inherited from her parent's parents with the new, glittery, jazzy glass baubles that they'd bought together for their first tree. He could even see some of them glittering there before him and he prided himself on his ability to remember such a small detail as that. There was even one, shaped like a bell that, initially, he'd thought was the cheesiest thing ever since it had the _infamous_ line from "It's a Wonderful Life" that she'd picked up in a small, obscure gift store and fallen in love with. And he'd fallen more in love with her when he saw her enthusiasm over it and instead of telling her how he really felt about the bauble, he'd bought it for her. He wondered if the glittery J+N he'd glued onto it was still on the bottom.

He was about to hoist himself out of the chair to go and check when he felt his mobile phone vibrating in his jean pocket. Startled and a little worried he quickly answered, saying his name in a hushed tone, not wishing to wake any of the other occupants in the house.

"Oh, hi. I didn't know if you'd still be awake."

"Well, you're lucky I'm enjoying the snow so much that I couldn't sleep." He glanced at the clock and saw that it was after two a.m.

"Aw man, you got snow? All we've got is some heavy frost and a few watery droplets trying for a cheap imitation of snow!"

John chuckled.

"I thought you said it always snowed in Canada at Christmas?"

Rodney huffed on the other end of the line and John smiled slightly. He'd never admit it but he was glad to hear from McKay.

"Well, apparently global warming's got a lot worse since the last time I spent Christmas here. Did you know that this is the _second_ year in a row that it hasn't snowed here at Christmas? I mean, that's just ridiculous! I mean it's-"

"What did you call me for, McKay?" John interrupted, letting his amused irritation shine through in his voice.

"Oh, right... I just wanted to wish you and Teyla a Merry Christmas, is she there?"

John shook his head even though Rodney couldn't see him.

"No, she's in bed but I'll pass the message along."

"Oh, no, that's fine; I'll call you again later on today so I can speak to her."

A few months ago, John would have been surprised by this comment but ever since things had spiralled downwards in the John and Teyla department, things in the Teyla and Ronon and Rodney department had gotten a lot cosier. Not that John was jealous or anything, he was actually glad something had given Rodney something to smile about. And that Teyla had had someone to talk to

while he'd been... incapacitated.

"I'll tell her you called, regardless. She'll be glad to hear from you."

John could practically _hear_ Rodney's smile from the other end of the line. He rolled his eyes.

"How is she anyway?"

"She's fine."

There was a pause on the line then he heard Rodney sigh.

"Is that it? 'She's fine?' The woman is pregnant; due any time now and all you can say is 'she's fine'?"

John was slightly startled by this but instead of being annoyed, he simply laughed it off.

"McKay, have you been drinking?"

There was another pause and John could practically see Rodney's indolent expression.

"I may have had one or two beers, yes. But that's not the point. If I didn't know how much she needed to sleep right now, I'd demand you go and wake her up so I could be sure how 'fine' she really is."

John raised his eyebrows as an amused smirk crossed over his face. He'd never heard Rodney like that and, if it had been anyone bar McKay – well, except maybe Ronon – he'd have found it almost endearing. But it most definitely wasn't; in fact, it was almost disconcerting.

"I think you should go to bed Rodney so that Santa can come and deliver your presents."

"Oh! I got you a present but I've let it back on Atl... you know. But I won't see you until then anyway so I guess it doesn't matter."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Unless I can give it to Santa when he comes and he can drop it off to you."

John laughed at that – loudly.

This was a side to McKay that he was sure no one had ever seen before. He wondered if Rodney even knew it existed before their conversation.

"I'll speak to you later, Rodney. Merry Christmas!" He hung up before his team mate could reply. He was pretty sure that McKay wouldn't remember the conversation by the time morning came and so was pretty damn sure that he needn't worry about his Playstation 3 going missing again.

He scrubbed at his suddenly very tired eyes and stretched in his chair, thrusting his arms over his head. He wasn't pleased by the cool blast of air that hit his exposed stomach and settled over the rest of his body so he stood and moved towards the staircase. As he ascended the staircase, walked down the corridor and passed the rooms that lined either side he found himself pausing for a moment outside her bedroom door.

Maybe he should check in on her, make sure she didn't need anything, or wasn't cold or...

He rolled his eyes at himself and moved towards the door, pushing it open slightly. When they'd been on the porch, she'd begun to shiver but refused to return to the house, claiming that her shivers were of excitement and not of the cold. But when he'd gripped her hand to help haul her up, she'd been icy cold. He'd almost shouted at her but he couldn't; he was too glad that she'd endured the cold to spend time with him.

He leant against the door frame and his eyes took in the sight of her lying tucked up beneath a thick feather quilt and a few layers of blankets. He told himself it wasn't weird because he was only stopping for a few seconds but when the seconds turned to minutes, he still couldn't convince himself to move. The sight of her hair sprawled across the pillow, her hand delicately placed under her cheek as she lay on her side in the spacious double bed had riveted him to the spot and his head was unable to override his heart's desire to stay.

He jumped slightly when he heard a floorboard creak behind him and he turned to see Nancy leaving her own bedroom. She smiled at him and walked towards him while John tried to look like he hadn't been watching the woman he'd admitted only to himself – and grudgingly – that he did perhaps maybe love her. A lot.

Nancy stopped beside him and smiled up at him as she folded her arms across her chest trying to ward off the creeping cold. She waited until he returned the smile – albeit uncertainly – before turning her eyes to what John had been looking at. He saw the small, knowing smile creep across her face and he scowled at it. He hated that smile. Unequivocally.

"She told me she's thinking about calling her child Doran if it's a boy." John felt his gut clench at that, hoping beyond all hope that Teyla hadn't told Nancy how she'd come about choosing that name. There was a pause where he felt Nancy's eyes trying to find his but he avoided them, training his vision on Teyla. Now he felt entirely uncomfortable. He never wanted to hurt Nancy. Never. "She said Doran was much more like a name her people would choose... as opposed to Dorian."

John closed his eyes, feeling the guilt build in his gut. He opened his eyes and his gaze found Nancy's. He scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to lessen the feeling of remorse that was building in him. He and Nancy had talked about baby names when she first got pregnant and he'd been adamant that his son would be called Dorian; he'd never been able to explain it but it was just a name he'd been drawn to his entire life. When she'd lost the baby and when he'd come back from another tour, he'd told her he didn't want any children, that that wasn't the life for him. She'd agreed that she'd never be able to change his mind.

"It's not..." But he didn't know what to say. He saw the tremble in her lip and he reached his hand out to her arm but she flinched away from him, shaking her head. "You know that... that's it's, _he's_ not mine, right?" He didn't exactly know why he was trying to convince her of this, after all _she_ was the one getting married to another guy.

"Not technically." He frowned at that and he saw the sad, defeated smile taint her lips. He never wanted to see it again if it meant he'd feel like the scum of the Earth. "But he will be." John moved to say something, to deny what she was saying, to voice his confusion but she silenced him with a finger to his lips. "You should tell her how you feel, John."

She kissed him on the cheek in his moment of dumbfounded immobility and moved past him back into her bedroom, closing the door with a resounding 'click'. He stood there for a moment, letting the symbolism of the action sink in.

They'd moved on.

He turned back to Teyla when he heard her shuffle and he sighed, his forearm bracing him against the frame. He leaned his head against the muscle and watched her in silent contemplation. Nancy's words came back to him but his fuzzy mind failed to comprehend them. The baby would never be his, especially if they found the Athosians... if they found Kanan. But then why...? He let the thought trail off, not wanting to voice it, even in his head.

Maybe he should tell her.

He frowned and bit the inside of his lip, his cheek and ground his back teeth together, his mind turning over and over and over.

Finally, after minutes of mental debating, he reached his decision. He took a step back, drawing the door closed with him. He stopped for a moment, his fingers resting on the handle for a few more seconds. He let them drop and made his way back to the living room. The comfort of the leather chair.

To the comfort of denial.


	9. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Missing, Seer

"John."

Suddenly, the sheet of paper in front of him was very interesting. He glanced up for an instant and in that moment he was sure his heart was going to leap up his chest, out his mouth and splat onto the very interesting piece of paper in front of him. Had it been a viable biological possibility, it would have happened to him, right there, right then. His eyes swept back to the paper in front of him and he gulped down a mouthful of lukewarm coffee in an attempt to dislodge the iron clad fist that had gripped his rib cage; damn thing was stopping him from breathing. He saw her sit delicately in a chair across from him and he found it increasingly difficult not to look at her. His eyes swept over her once more, settling for a second on her still flat stomach. He saw her hesitate before resting a gentle hand there and he wondered if she saw him glance at her.

"There is a matter I must discuss with you."

He made a noise that resembled a grunt but was intended as a word. He didn't know which word but a word none the less. He grunted again at his own inarticulateness. He didn't look up to see the frown that was on her face; his nose was so far down that it almost grazed the table. He hoped she'd get the hint and leave him alone. He just didn't think he'd be able to talk to her, not in the forthcoming days anyway. What Ronon had told him – and what he guessed she had come to tell him – needed a few days... oh, who the hell was he lying to? A few weeks, maybe even months to sink into his system before he could even contemplate _thinking_ about it in her presence, never mind talking about it.

"There... On Athos, it is not customary for one such as me to not have taken a husband, to not have at least one child already... I had always..." she faltered and he forced himself to look up at her, even if it was just so the burning on the side of his went away. He couldn't hold her gaze any longer and before his eyes left her completely, he felt them slide to her stomach. He felt sick. "I... had waited." He said nothing, only cocking his jaw and shifting his eyes. The double meaning of her words was lost on him. He heard her sigh and he shuffled his papers. Finally, when it was clear she wasn't going to continue until he was looking at her, he straightened them, made sure his arms were placed exactly down the edges of the A4 sheets and lifted his head, settling his eyes on her face, his own expression hauntingly neutral. He watched as she breathed deeply, her eyes skittering away from his. "I am with child." John felt it like a full on punch to his gut. He didn't react, visually, like he hadn't when Ronon had told him. But inside... inside his lungs burned, demanding he let valuable oxygen into them, his heart hammered in protest, and his stomach flip-flopped in a way that was most unbecoming of a full grown man. "His name is Kanan."

Son of a _bitch._

He'd sparred with him. He'd sparred with the guy who'd gone and... He inhaled deeply through his nose and let it out slowly through slightly parted lips.

It had nothing to do with him what Teyla did in her free time.

Slowly, he slid his eyes away from her face, dabbed the piece of paper in front of him – it might have been a report , he wasn't sure – and tucked his lips between his teeth. He scanned the words on the page in front of him, pushing his emotions out of his body through the tightening of his muscles.

"I know," he murmured lowly, his voice almost dangerous. He paused and raised his eyes, meeting her wide and surprised. He ticked his jaw again; bit the inside of his bottom lip. "Ronon told me."

He stood up quickly, sharply and stalked past her, leaving his might-be report behind, leaving her staring at the empty space, wondering about his quick, rude departure.

As he walked out of the mess hall, he told himself that it didn't matter, that it wouldn't affect them, that it had nothing to do with him.

But he knew the truth.

And that wasn't it.


	10. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode: Doppelganger, Missing, Seer

"You can't avoid her forever, you know."

John grunted as he dodged a blow from Ronon's staves, ducking under the taller man's arm and pivoting, before blocking another and attacking with his left arm. Ronon easily caught it and forced him back.

John grunted and shoved back hard, only managing to slightly off-balance the bigger man and snuck away from him. There was a loud clack as the two wooden staves broke against one another. John winced as the sensation vibrated up his weaker arm. He pulled back as Ronon landed a blow on his shoulder, marginally lighter than it would have been had he not moved.

"And you can't avoid talking about it forever, either."

John glowered up at him from under his arm that was currently reaching up so his fingers could rub the sweat off his brow. He'd been sparring alone for an hour or so before he'd been joined by Ronon. Since then, the least of his worries had been what had been plaguing his mind; Ronon wasn't exactly gentle at the best of times, never mind when he was more than a little pissed off with John.

"I don't know what you're talking about," John retorted and swiped at the back of his neck with a towel he'd picked up from the floor.

Ronon simply dropped his hands to his side and stared at John with an amused expression on his face. His eyebrows were almost as high as his hairline and John knew the look far too well.

"I'm talking about Teyla. And her being pregnant."

John winced at the word and he saw Ronon's smirk widen. He rolled his eyes and assumed his sparring position.

"Let's just do this, okay?"

Ronon nodded and advanced towards John, his eyes stern as he watched his opponent's body shifting, hoping to find a fissure in his posture, in his defence. John knew the look, had seen it many times and quickly tightened up his position. He studied Ronon, could see the strength the Satedan had in his upper arms – hell even in his forearms – and he was reminded of the life his friend had lived before they'd rescued him.

"She cried when you walked away."

John paused and his staves dropped slightly, but it was enough. Ronon attacked and John was powerless to stop the blow to his head. He blinked furiously, staring at the wall, his side hurting from falling on the ground so forcefully. His hand flew to his head and he pulled it away, seeing blood on his fingers, felt it drip down his temple.

"Dammit, Ronon!"

He held his hand out for Ronon to yank him but he was greeted with empty air. He looked around groggily for his team mate and saw him leaning against the opposite wall, a glare in his eyes, his lips a tiny thin line. John glowered at him and dropped down onto his back, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. He sighed heavily and scrubbed at his face.

He knew he had to talk to Teyla, he just didn't know how to. Whenever he saw her he felt this unnameable tug in his gut – in his chest – and his legs forced him in the opposite direction. He knew he was hurting her but he was hurting too.

He'd never admit it aloud but he was.

The thought of her with... _him;_ he couldn't even bring himself to say his name.

He supposed in a sense, he really had no reason to grouch about it – he'd had Chaya... and he'd never dissuaded her about the other women, just let her believe what she wanted. Oh how he wished now that he hadn't. Maybe then she wouldn't have gone to Kanoe.

Or maybe she would.

And that's what scared him the most; that everything he'd thought he'd felt from her could have been false, that he might have been imagining it. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it. The moments they'd spent together over the past year had brought them closer and for him it was a matter of when and not if. But maybe it wasn't for her. Maybe it was something that she'd used to entertain herself. Or maybe she was just too nice to let him down.

"She's your friend. She needs all the support she can get. Her people are missing and you're in here sulking like a little boy." John scrunched his eyes up and glared at Ronon again through the thin gaps of his fingers. "Talk to her. She needs you."

And with that he was gone.

He didn't know how long he lay there but when he next sat up, she was standing in the doorway, concern marring her beautiful features. He jumped up and stared at her, his mouth moving in an imitation of speech. Then he felt it. The tug. He glanced away and grabbed his things, dropping his staves in his rush.

"John..." He felt her hand on his forearm and he jumped away from her, ignoring the burning sensation of where her skin had met his. His eyes flew to hers and he saw the sheen of tears there. He wanted to apologise, to tell her he'd be there for her.

But then his eyes dropped to her slightly protruding belly and his feet carried him out of the room without consulting the rest of his body. He stopped in the corridor and sunk against the wall, his hands coming up to his face again. He doubled over and sucked in a deep breath.

He wanted to talk to her, he really did.

But that was only half the battle. Staying in the same room with her for more than ten seconds was the rest.


	11. Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Missing, Seer

John felt something in his gut drop from his body and pool around his feet somewhere; his chest ached as though something was crushing him to death; his fingers clenched into a fist; his jaw dropped onto the goop that had spilled from his feet and his eyes bugged out of his head. He tried to breathe but his lungs would not obey. He could feel Ronon and Rodney's and Sam's and everyone on the base's eyes on him and he wanted to turn and run away but some kind of masochistic pleasure kept him rooted to the spot.

Time seemed to have actually stopped, everything moving in slow motion around him – he supposed that could be resultant of lack of oxygen in his brain – and he was forced to watch the scene unfold in gruesome, lethargic slowness. The sounds seemed muffled somehow as though the air was catching them and swirling them around before filtering them into John's cotton-wooled ears; colours blended together in a sick swirl and he felt dizzy; he could feel the blood slowly pounding around his body, his heart slowing down before stopping completely.

He felt like he was dying.

Air cracked through the block in his lungs and he stumbled forward, grabbing onto the railing, sounds assaulting him in a ludicrously loud cacophany, images assaulted him, his blood pounded through his body, carrying the adrenaline to his limbs and he closed his eyes. He felt sick. His stomach retched dryly, turning over and over in his body. He opened his eyes and saw her.

Saw her with him.

He fled. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him through the tunnel leading away from the control room, down corridors, past people rushing to the gate room and he didn't stop until he felt the cool draft breeze through his hair. He leaned over the railing, gripping the metal rod with intensity that turned his knuckles white and sucked in the clean, fresh air, feeding his lungs oxygen in abundance. He was gasping, literally and he wondered if it was possible to pass out from too much oxygen.

Of course it bloody well was, it's called _hyper-ventilating_ he mocked himself and before he knew it, his fist had connected with the metal pillar beside him. He groaned, loudly, in pain but didn't look down to see the blood pooling from his knuckles. A choked sob escaped his throat and he lashed out at the wall again, cursing his body for betraying him.

 _They'd been doing_   
_so_   
_well._

He covered his face with his hands and dug the tips of his fingers into his eyes, wishing to gouge them out as he saw the two of them together blazoned across his eyelids. It had even been a month ago that he and Teyla had shared Christmas together, that he'd shared another part of himself with her and now... now it was all up in smoke. His resolution to not tell her how he felt had seemed like such a good idea at the time, when he had so much to hide behind but now... now he wished beyond all reasonable doubt that he'd told her and that somehow, some way _he_ hadn't made it back.

He kicked out at the thought, cursing himself for wishing that upon one of her people. Her people... They'd just returned through the 'gate with Major Moore's team, all of them, each and every last one of them including Kanan... his body convulsed at the thought of his name, not a memory to be had amongst them.

And just in time for Teyla giving birth. He hitched another breath at that. She was due in tomorrow to be induced, having been overdue for almost two weeks. It was supposed tobe John who was next to her... Not now.

He swivelled when he heard the door's behind him swish open and he was glad for the darkness. He could see Ronon's dark figure just inside the doorway, his head moving from side to side, obviously looking for the Colonel. He shrunk back into the shadow's hoping that Ronon would simply move on. He did and John sighed a breath of relief and slumped down against the balcony.

He could hear the hustle and bustle of the returning Athosians, could hear the rest of the expedition moving towards the gate room just to make sure that the Athosians were actually back and that it wasn't just a rumour.

He wished he could share in their enthusiasm, knew that he should be back in there demanding answers – that it was his _job_ –, that he should be beside Teyla, giving her friendly moral support. But that it felt like someone had taken out his heart and used it as a baseball, made him pretty sure that _there_ was somewhere he definitely didn't want to be... couldn't be.

He didn't know how long he'd been out on the balcony, wallowing in a pit of self pity before he heard Sam calling him over the radio. An irrational part of his brain wanted to rip the ear piece out and toss it into the deep waters below. He'd have done it, too, if he wasn't absolutely certain he'd be reprimanded for it.

He trudged back to the gate room, dodging the welcoming party – the _welcomed_ party too – and tried to control his breathing as he heard murmurs of Teyla's joyous news, of the ceremonies that would have to occur now that the Athosians were back and able to perform them. He wanted to cut off his ears and feed them to Todd. He couldn't handle this anymore.

Loving Nancy had never been this painful.

And yet, when he walked into the briefing room he knew then what real pain was. No form of torture – human or otherwise- could compare to the sight before him. He felt his blood slow down in his veins again, saw his vision narrowing, focussing in on Kanan's hand that was pressed against Teyla's swollen stomach; to the happy smile encompassing Teyla's face. And when she turned to him, her dark eyes meeting his, dimming slightly along with her smile, his heart shattered and he couldn't muster the strength to breathe, let alone reassure her that he was okay.

It was crushing, all of this, crushing the life out of him, grinding his battered heart into tiny pieces of dust.

He couldn't do this.

He turned, faltered slightly when she called his name, and walked away.


	12. Abjure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: From Missing onwards

"Do you know what you're asking for?"

John nodded his head slowly, his eyes falling from Carter's. He'd debated coming here and asking her this for well over a week; had paced about in his room for hours before coming to her office and then spent a good half hour - at least - in the control room watching her as she read mission reports, wondering if this was really what he wanted to do.

"Yeah."

He saw her nod and he flinched slightly at her pinched expression. He felt both relieved and guilty now that he'd voiced his request and he wanted both to jump for joy and retract his statement. He gulped in a breath of air and felt it soothe the aching in his muscles. He felt the stillness in the room creeping up on him but it couldn't quite subtract from his quickly soothing body.

"I understand that you're team – _you_ – has been through a lot recently but... are you sure this is what you want to do?"

He raised his eyes to hers at the sceptical tone of her voice and nodded his head solemnly.

"Yeah. I just need to get away for a while."

And it was no lie. So much had happened to him since he'd joined the Atlantis expedition that it was no wonder he had gone a little mad and needed to go home to Earth for a while to try and get himself together. It sounded cliché even to him but he needed some time alone to think and sort through everything that was going through his mind and he couldn't do that on Atlantis; not when there was a crisis at every corner, not when everything seemed to be going wrong... not when he saw _her_ every day.

And that was it, really, the reason why he was running away. He'd thought he'd come to terms with everything that had happened in the past two years with what had happened with Carson, Elizabeth, Ford, Nancy, Michael, the Replicators and even what had been going on with Teyla.

And then she'd shown up at his door that night and everything went so unbelievably wrong that he wasn't sure he knew exactly _what_ had started it.

What had happened hadn't really changed anything because no one knew but it put them in a position that they needn't be in and he just couldn't handle it anymore. He'd had a small reprieve when she'd gone to the mainland after Doran – he felt his chest tighten at the thought of the name – was born with Kanan – he felt his throat dry at the thought of _that_ name – but it was short lived and he knew the only way he'd be able to get over it... get over her would be to go back to Earth and bury his head so far in the sand that even his butt would be covered.

"I..." He looked up at her and saw her heave a sigh, uncertainty lacing her features. "You know, you're not that only one affected by what happened... we were all affected in some way because Teyla is an integral part of this unit now..." John nodded, his throat drying, his eyes clouding over with tears that he'd yet to shed for any of it. He could see Carter examining him, trying to read him and he looked away, glanced to the hands that were fisted up in his lap, grasping a small piece of paper he couldn't even remember picking up. "I know everyone needs to get away for a while but..." She trailed off, and her faced changed. She nodded. "All right; I will still need to clear it with the SGC but I will put a strong recommendation through for you." He sighed in relief, the smile not quite making it to his face. He felt a sudden lump in the back of his throat and he gulped it down. "How long will you need?"

He looked up at her again and shook his head slightly.

"I don't know."

She nodded.

"Okay." She didn't question him and he was glad. He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. "I'll contact you once I've spoken with General Landry."

He smiled slightly in gratitude and swept a hand through his hair, and stood up.

He made it to the door, had a foot over it before she spoke his name and he paused but did not turn around.

"Whatever you're looking for... I hope you find it."

He nodded almost imperceptibly and walked away, without looking up. He made it to the corridor outside the control room before he looked up and his eyes found her instantly. Brown met hazel and it seemed like time stopped, his heart beat slowed down until he was sure it had stopped in his chest.

Then he looked away and kept walking, his heart splintering a little more as she walked silently by.


	13. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Missing, Seer

It wasn't that he intended it to turn out the way it did.

In fact, if he was honest, he hadn't really _intended_ anything; especially not with so many people around. It was just that when his lips touched her skin... hell, he wasn't sure what actually happened – all he knew was that he couldn't stop his lips from seeking out hers.

And even as these thoughts flitted through his mind, he couldn't bring himself to pull away. It wasn't the type of kiss that sent blood rushing to certain parts of his anatomy – not that it didn't, anyway – but more that of... hell, he wasn't sure at all but it felt undeniably right. It wasn't like the kiss – _ha! –_ that they'd shared over a year ago when she'd shown up at his door after What Had Happened; it didn't hold the same passionate want, undying need, the heart-wrenching desperation that occurred when one seeks comfort - desperate refuge - from the pains of the world in another.

No. This was like coming home. Layered love, consumed by a world of lies and facets and things that could go so horribly wrong and John felt something inside of him burst at the feeling.

And he'd tried to kid himself that he'd gotten over her.

Ha.

He somehow managed to stop his hands from rising to her hair and pulling her body closer to his, needing to feel her warmth closer to him, yet he couldn't quite tear his lips from hers. He wasn't sure how long they'd been like that but his thoughts were starting to make it awkward for him to be kissing her in that way with his hands at his side, hovering somewhere way past platonic but not quite anywhere else.

He pulled back hesitantly, his body screaming in protest, trying to urge his lips back to hers for some more welcoming warmth but he denied it and leant away, his fingers coming up to brush a light caress over her cheek bones and sought her eyes. Uncertainly, she smiled up at him before her eyes darted over his shoulder, effectively breaking whatever spell they'd been under. John followed her gaze and noticed that, conspicuously, no one was watching them, their eyes all carefully placed elsewhere. Except one pair that, once John's eyes caught the blue orbs, lowered their lids in sad knowing, before turning their body away and adjusting the small bundle in his arms.

He turned back to Teyla and saw that her eyes were on her husband also, and John felt something inside of him creak in protest at the pensive look in her eyes. He reached his hand out and touched her arm and she jerked slightly before turning to him, apology written on her features. He saw her lips moving, trying to form words that he was sure were an apology. But an apology was not what he saw in her eyes.

And, for John, it was enough.

He leaned in again, brushed a kiss to her cheek and this time resisted the urge to further it and murmured gently in to her ear,

"Happy New Year, Teyla."

He faltered when he pulled away, his lips catching the edge of hers, his hand coming to rest involuntarily on her hip. He saw her take a small breath and turn her head slightly to his.

"You too, John."

He watched as she walked away, taking the small bundle from Kanan's arms and spared him one more glance, followed by a small smile. John laid his drink down on a nearby table and ran a hand through his longer than normal hair.

As he left the mess hall, he smiled.

For now, it was enough.


	14. Torpid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Missing, Seer

He'd known from the get go that he wasn't going to enjoy it; that sitting at the edge of a pond (he couldn't even call it a lake) with a stick and some wire dipping into the water, with nought for company but the multitude of sea creatures that seemed to be expertly avoiding his line and his estranged brother who John was beginning to remember for the reasons he'd become estranged in the first place was not something he really needed to do. He sighed and took another sip of the beer that had warmed in the sun, adjusted his shades while cursing his heathen of an ex-wife.

 _"It'll be fun,"_ she'd said and John, ridiculously, had believed her.

Who the hell went fishing these days, anyway? There were fishmongers and supermarkets for a reason. He grumbled again but Graham conveniently ignored him. This was not what John Sheppard had come to Earth for. He hadn't wanted to be stuck doing nothing at the edge of a beautiful would be lake trying to make small talk with a brother he'd not spoken to for years because they had absolutely nothing in common and thus allow his brain to think about the reason he'd come to Earth in the first place.

"Oh," he murmured and glanced at his watch. He'd managed t successfully not think about What Had Happened for almost seven minutes. He rolled his eyes at his own pathetic-ness and shoogled the line again, watching the ripples fan out across the smooth surface of the mirror like water. In the reflection he saw his brother turn to him and John glared at him from behind his black Ray-Bans.

"You're rippling my pond."

John grunted.

" _Your_ pond?"

He saw Graham's eyebrow rise up above his own ridiculously large sunglasses and John turned away.

"You know what I mean."

John shook the line again, violently before leaning back against the grass, folding his arms behind his head. He'd be able to work on his tan, at least. The sun was warm beating down on his face and he was grateful that Nancy had somehow convinced him to East Coast it. He didn't think he'd be able to stick with the cooler temperatures back in Colorado where she was.

He supposed there were plenty of worse places he could be. Afghanistan... a hive ship... on Atlantis. He shifted slightly and shook his head. In a way, he supposed some senseless, purposeless, action-less time was what he needed to try and redistribute his equilibrium. At the same time though, he wasn't used to it and he was pretty sure there were plenty of better places he could be, too. With Nancy, for example, or even gambling all his earnings away in Vegas, drinking down a couple of cocktails and brews that only Nevada could conjure up with a few old acquaintances he was sure wouldn't find if he popped by to say hello.

He closed his eyes and smiled as he was greeted with scenes from him flying through the air in an Apache helicopter, the sun dipping low in the horizon behind him. He liked flying, he really did. He wondered if there was any chance that Landry would let him have a go with one of the bases helicopters again because although the Puddle Jumpers were great, there was really something special about flying unaided by mind-reading computers.

"There's a nice bar and grill not far from your hotel that we can go to for dinner, if you'd like."

He opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction of the voice, a small smile playing across his features.

"I thought you were trying to catch dinner."

He heard Graham chuckle slightly and he did too.

He closed his eyes again and shuffled to a more comfortable position. He'd only been on Earth for a few days and he was pretty damn sure he'd slept through most of his time there. His body seemed to want to lie down and go to sleep more than he'd ever done in his life. It wasn't a bad thing – not really – and he supposed that it was just his body letting itself relax after almost five years of concentrated stress.

He didn't know how long he'd been dozing before he heard his brother's voice breaking through his foggy brain and pulling him from the realms of Neverland.

"Nancy tells me you're involved with one of the women back where you're posted."

John groaned as his mind instantly projected an image of Teyla on his eyelids. He conceded, though, knowing that it must have been some kind of record for him not thinking about her since What Had Happened. He opened his eyes and sat up, pulling at a few blades of grass between his legs.

"Nah, nothing like that."

John didn't need to look at Graham to know the kind of look that would be on his face. He knew what Nancy must have told him and although he was a little angry, he knew he couldn't fault her for trying to help him.

"Oh."

John didn't look up as he shredded a blade of grass. To be honest, he wasn't sure exactly what it _was_ like. When she'd shown up at his door not more than a fortnight ago, he'd thought things would change. Instead, after What Had Happened, she'd told him she was getting married and would be raising her child with Kanan, he'd felt like he'd been tricked. He knew that none of it was her fault and that he wouldn't need to be here if he hadn't pushed the issue. But he had and he was. He pursed his lips and shook his head.

He was his own worst enemy, really.

"She just gave birth to a kid a couple weeks ago." John tilted his head in Graham's direction and saw the surprise covering his face. "And no, it's not mine." He looked away. "She's getting married."

"I'm sorry."

John shook his head.

"Nah, don't be." He tossed shards of grass into the air and watched as the wind whipped them around before depositing them carelessly on the water's surface. "I'm not."

He thudded the ground next to him with his fist and lay back down, all thoughts of peace evacuating his head, leaving his mind riddled with thoughts of her and him and their child. He had to get over her. He did.

Or he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it back on Atlantis.

And he had to because there, with her was the only place he felt was home.


	15. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Missing

When she'd shown up at his door, he'd thought things would change. He really had. He'd actually allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe she'd overcome whatever fear it was that had held them both back for so long.

But things hadn't exactly gone to plan.

John remembered sitting beside her as she'd told him how glad she was that her people had been found and were safe and well – if perhaps missing a few memories – but that she hoped he'd be there for her the way he had been for the last month or so of her pregnancy. He hadn't said anything as she'd apologised for him not being there for the birth of her son, Doran, but that he must understand it was the father's place – Kanan's place – to be beside her in the birthing room. He'd nodded, agreeing but it didn't mean he didn't feel the bitter taste of resentment creeping up the back of his throat. But the look in her eyes; well, that was saying something to him that words could not. And that was when he'd started to hope.

" _John,"_ she'd said. " _I... I am glad you are here_."

It was then he'd leaned closer to her, circling her body with his arms. She'd even leaned into him and returned the small kiss he'd placed on her hair with one on his throat. And then she'd leaned back, lowered her eyelids and he'd been lost to her. His lips sought hers and she did not pull back but she didn't exactly reciprocate either. Until, that was, his tongue teased her lips apart. Then she'd responded in kind, her own hands coming up to his face and pulling further into her, crushing him to her so much that he thought he would break her or she would break him.

He wasn't sure what words passed between their lips as layers of clothing began to be removed. It didn't matter to either of them. It was when his lips were making their way down her throat that he'd frozen as the words began to matter.

 _"I am marrying Kanan."_

And John had jumped away from her and stood on the opposite side of the room staring, mouth agape, at her in complete and utter shock. Small tears had leaked from her eyes at some point and he cursed himself for not noticing them before.

Of _course_ she wouldn't tell him to stop because he knew that she had wanted that just as much as he had. Either that or she was a damn good actress, he thought bitterly as he watched her. He'd somehow clothed himself while she'd lain there, immobile, her hands covering her face, pulling at her hair, teeth chewing a lip that was plump and bruised from the ferocity of their kisses.

He hadn't moved – he couldn't – until she had tried to bypass him on the way to the door some time later. He remembered the way that neither of them moved for a long time; the room was black when she'd tried to leave, while it had been ablaze with the azure glow of sunset when she'd arrived. Her body brushed against his as she tried to reach the door and he took a step to the side, allowing her to move, ignoring the burning in his skin where hers had touched his.

She'd made it outside the door before he'd turned and murmured her name. She'd paused, turned to him with dark eyes that were alight with unshed tears but held little of anything else. He studied her face, wondering if he'd ever be able to see her in the same way again. She tilted her chin outward then and he'd shaken his head, slowly, his own eyes devoid of emotion as the doors had slid shut. That had been the last time he'd seen her before she'd left for Athos with her son and Kanan.

John lashed out at the wall in his hotel room and watched as the blood oozed from the wound and he shook his head angrily, ludicrous hot tears burning the back of his eyes. He scraped his hand through his hair and sighed as he felt some of the rage leave him.

He couldn't blame her, really. He guessed it was only rational that she marry a man of her own people but he'd thought they'd had something; something that was more than a few glances, worth more than a stolen kiss from a woman he realised he barely knew because the Teyla he knew would never do that. Her honour wouldn't let her.

He grunted as he moved to the bathroom and washed away the drippings of blood and bandaged it with gauze from the room's first aid kit. He paused on his way back to the bed and stared at his reflection; dark circles deepened his eyes, despite the amount of sleep he'd had; his hair was almost unruly, refusing to stand on end due to its length; his skin was dry and taught across his features, making him appear drawn and gaunt. He sighed again and saw the mist appear on the cool bathroom mirror.

There were a lot of things John Sheppard wished he could change.

And falling for Teyla was one of them.


	16. Happenstance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: all of season 4

"Teyla." It came out quieter than he'd intended. "I..." he faltered as her glossy eyes caught his and he looked away from her stare. He didn't know what to say - he was pretty sure there wasn't anything _to_ say; not for that. "I didn't think you'd want to see me," he murmured awkwardly, shifting his feet beneath him.

A strange sense of déjà vu came over him as she stepped forward into his unprepared arms. He tensed, unsure of what he wanted to do but his arms betrayed his body's desire to stay still as they enveloped her petite frame, still soft from her pregnancy. He could feel her wet tears soaking through his shirt and drenching his chest and he felt a chasm develop there at her pain. He closed his eyes and pulled her tighter against him, inhaling her familiar scent as something tore open inside of him. He hated seeing her in pain, especially when he was helpless to ease it. Sobs ricocheted around the room as he tugged her gently inside the door, blocking them both from the outside world as the two panels slid shut.

He moved his hands aimlessly over her back hoping to soothe her as he whispered words intended to comfort into her ear. He was pretty sure she didn't hear him. Minutes slid by and still he held her, tightening his grip even more as tears of his own built up behind his eyes. No one deserved that. No one deserved the kind of pain that did this, that tore open a person's soul and let everyone see what was going on inside. She sounded so wounded, so much like someone had ripped her heart out that John felt his own chasing after it, trying to find it and bring it back to her as she wailed soundlessly into his chest.

She beat his chest with light punches, her fingers clawing at his shirt, his neck – anything she could reach and he let her; knew that he had to or she would never get over this. Eventually, reluctantly, she pulled back as her tears began to subside, sniffing and glossy eyed. As she looked over his shoulder, John was afraid to break the spell that had fallen between them, afraid that, if he said anything, she'd close off and he'd be unable to reach her, to help her.

He didn't try to remove himself from her grip, not even as her fingers tightened over his arms, the ache in his elbow becoming almost intolerable. She looked so fragile that he was sure any movements would shatter her. He could tell from the tight line of her lips, of the narrow set-ness of her eyes that there was more to come, that she was holding back from him.

"Teyla..." He said her name quietly, not wanting to startle her and slid his hands up and down her bare arms in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

But she shook her head, her eyes fixed on his chest, not willing to make eye contact. He watched her for a second, saw her bloodshot eyes fill with tears once more and he raised a finger to her jaw, tilting her chin up. She resisted as he knew she would and he lifted his other hand and cradled her face between his two hands and she glanced up at him surprised. He licked his lips and tried to say something, hoping that if he opened his mouth the words would simply tumble out. But they didn't and they stayed in what seemed like endless quietude.

The room around them began to darken as the sun dipped below the horizon and still neither of them moved, transfixed by the other, both wondering what it was that was happening, both too lose in their thoughts to really care.

She blinked and a fat drop of salty liquid fell from her lashes and when he looked, he saw her lips trembling; when he felt with his hands instead of his heart he noted the tremors in her jaw, in her fingers as they gripped him in a vice grip. Her lips parted and a sound came out, almost inhuman and her legs buckled, her weight falling to the floor with gravity's aide.

He caught her as she fell and tumbled with her to the ground, fresh tears springing to his eyes; for her, for him, for what had been lost. Just when he thought they'd had enough, that fate had finally given them a moment of peace, this had happened.

And he hadn't been there for her.

He enveloped her in his arms and pulled her into his lap, rocking them both back and forward as her body shook violently against his, as her fists pounded harmlessly against his chest, as she screamed into his neck about how unfair the world was, as her tears flooded his shirt. He was silent, letting her grieve in the way he knew she never would with anyone else.

He'd been happily barbecuing some meat for himself in the garden of the cabin he'd ended up in after a week in California, when Caldwell had beamed him up and escorted him to Atlantis. By the time he'd gotten there, it was all over. When he'd strode into her office, Carter had told him to find her because she wouldn't talk to anyone else.

He hadn't gone. Instead, he'd fumed about his vacation being interrupted for something he was yet to be informed about, even after nagging at Caldwell for days on end on the Daedalus. Then Carter muttered the words that had sent his world into a spiral so dizzying that he'd slumped against the wall, his body sagging as all his energy left him in a single word;

" _What?"_

" _Find her."_

He hadn't gone. Not at first. He'd retreated to his quarters and sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands trying to imagine just what Teyla was going through. He remembered what it felt like when it had happened to him – okay, so when it happened to him it hadn't been _quite_ as bad – so he knew at least partially what she must be feeling. It was that resolve that had gotten him up and walking around the midnight empty corridors of Atlantis trying to find her.

But when he had found her, his resolve had fled like the Egyptians during Exodus when he saw her with him. He'd disappeared into the darkness as quickly and as quietly as he'd come. He'd chastised himself all the way back to his quarters for his naivety in thinking that ridiculously _he_ was the one to help her. She had her husband now, for that.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"I... he's..."

He jumped slightly at her choked words and he looked down to where her head was still buried in his shoulder, clutching at the material of his shirt with white knuckles, her lips twisted in a silent scream.

"Teyla... it's all right... I'm here." He tucked his head into the crook of her neck as her sobs started once more. "I'm right here."

Later, when she'd exhausted herself she pulled back and he opened his eyes tiredly, pretty sure they'd dozed off. She looked like she hadn't slept in days and he supposed she probably hadn't. He knew that he wouldn't have been able to. He reached a hand up and smoothed a few tangles in her hair, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You know," she whispered and John almost missed the words. "I would have named him John."

John felt something in his chest tighten at that and he nodded, lowering his eyes for a moment before coming back to hers with a slight smile there.

"Thank you." He wasn't sure what he was thanking her for but he knew that it didn't matter, not really. "I'm sorry I wasn't here." She shook her head but didn't say anything and John knew that there was nothing to be said, that it had been said in their silence, in the way she still clung to him, despite the recession of her tears. Seconds turned to minutes and many later, John spoke again, his words surer in voice than they had been in thought. "You can stay here – if you want."

She raised her head from his chest and stared at him – he could feel it, though he didn't look at her. He knew she wouldn't stay but he felt he had to say it.

"You know I cannot."

He convinced himself that the regret he heard there was entirely fabricated by his mind and let her go as she moved to stand up. He cast a glance to his clock by his bedside; she'd been with him for hours. He stood up eventually too as she had begun to shuffle uncomfortably, brushing her hands up and down her trousers.

He moved to touch her arm but stopped half way and clasped his hand into a fist, his lips moving without words coming out. She watched him before covering his fist with her hand and shook her head, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"Say nothing." He knew she meant more than right there at that moment. He nodded, licking his lips, casting his eyes elsewhere. She patted his hand once, twice before withdrawing her hand. She moved to the door and he did not follow. When she hesitated before opening the doors, he stepped closer to her but she stepped over the threshold, just out of his reach. She paused again and turned to him, ever so slightly. "Thank you, John."

Her hesitation was his undoing.

"Teyla."

He lurched forward and grabbed her arm, ignoring the sense of déjà vu once more, and pulled her back into his quarters. It didn't really register that she'd come almost willingly. The doors slid shut before he let her go and she took a step back, her shoulders coming into contact with the solid metal doors, her head thudding gently against them. But she didn't look panicked by the way he towered

over her, his eyes boring down into hers, his palms face down on either side of her head; strong, reassuring, dominant.

"Teyla," he murmured again, his eyes flitting from her eyes to her lips. He could feel her shallow breaths cascading over his lips and he sighed, lowering his eyelids as he leaned closer.

Then he kissed her. Not with gentle, loving lips as he'd expected but with those of a lost lover, devouring, teasing, tasting, _desiring._ He heard her moan into his mouth as she returned the kiss with the same intensity, the same ferocity - the same passion. Her taste was intoxicating and he needed more of it, quickly. Desperately, they grasped at one another, knowing that this was what she needed, what they'd needed for so long and nothing, no-one could stop them now that they'd broken the dam built for too many years.

As he lifted her knee up against his hip, pushing her further into the doors, he knew that he had never felt like this before. He pressed further against her, pressing their bodies together so intimately that there was no doubting as to his intentions. She tore her lips away from his and panted as she stared into him with eyes as obsidian as the sea outside. He licked his lips and drew his hands further up her body, over her hips, her waist, the outline of her breast and her eyelids fluttered shut, her head thudding slightly as it dropped to the metal behind her.

Her top was the first to go, and in a flurry his followed. He pulled her legs around his hips and turned, moving them towards the bed. She was a vision in his arms, her lips swollen from his kiss, her eyes glassy with desire. He kissed her, marked her neck lightly as he dropped her to the bed and it was only when he was hovering over her on his bed did his eyes leave hers to take in her beautiful body that had somehow disrobed itself of its other garments.

"John..."

At the sound of his name moaned from her lips, he was lost in her once more, discovering her body in a flurry of hands and lips and touches soft and loving, probing and passionate as her mewls of desirous delight flooded his senses. She surrounded him as he slid into her, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as they moved with gracious fluidity to a timeless dance, embedded deep in their very core.

There was no room for regret; that would come later. Right then, she was his and his alone.

As they lay silently side by side, hours later, he glanced over at her and saw a sad smile gracing her features. He shifted onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, his fingers itching to brush the tendrils of hair from her shoulder. She turned to him slowly, her face unreadable yet undeniably sad.

"Teyla..." He faltered again and pursed his lips as his fingers reached out to trace her collar bone. She didn't pull away from his touch and he was glad. He'd never been good with words. "These things happen... people die. It wasn't your fault."

She closed her eyes, pulled her lips between her teeth and he wanted to kick himself for paining her so.

"But he was just a baby..." A tear slid out of her eye and traced a slow track down her temple to her hairline and he caught it with his lips before it disappeared. "My people... they will think..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

He shook his head vehemently and she opened her eyes to stare into his.

"It wasn't. Your. Fault. Okay? You're people do not blame you; they can't. It's not logical and it's not right for them to. They trust you, just like you should trust them. You have to believe me when I tell you this because you know I would never lie to you. Yes, it's sad and it feels like your world is collapsing in on you but it will get easier for you. You'll wake up one day and it won't hurt as much as it did the day before. It's a slow process, Teyla... It'll hurt tomorrow, it'll hurt in fifty years time when you have grand kids running around but one day it'll be manageable." When he stopped talking, she was staring at him in awe. He looked down sheepishly, wondering to himself where the words had come from. "Sorry."

She didn't reply with words; instead her hands snaked up to the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss, tender and loving and full of promise.

His mind tells him that when he wakes up in the morning, she'll be gone and he has to be okay with that. It thinks that maybe one day they'll speak about this night and he'll be okay with that when they do. It also tells him that maybe one day, he'll murmur the words that are on the tip of his tongue and they'll both be okay with that.

It tells him that in a few hours, she'll go back to Kanan and he has to be okay with that too.

But as he is moving inside of her again, it rests easy knowing that when she needed someone, she came to him.

And, in that moment, that's enough.


	17. Malleable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: all of season 4

He remembered hearing someone calling his name. He remembered hearing the frantic tone of numerous voices above him. He remembered flashes of light as he'd hovered somewhere between darkness and light. He remembered snippets of sound; voices, beeps, bangs, whizzing. He remembered touches and brushes of skin against skin as he was manoeuvred from one place to another. He remembered someone calling his name.

When he managed to crawl from the darkness that had kept him captive for who knew how long, he'd been alone in a dull, quiet infirmary. His eyes had slid shut again and when they reopened, he was still alone but the infirmary was bustling with people and light. He squinted against it as it pierced the back of his eyes fiercely. He coughed and he felt something tear down his side and he groaned in pain, his left hand reaching over to press against where he assumed his wound was. When his fingers brushed against it, he hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.

His eyes slid shut again and he welcomed the pain free darkness.

Next time, he wasn't alone but the infirmary was dim once more. His eyes fell to the figure lying uncomfortably against the side of his bed and he frowned slightly. His foggy brain wouldn't process what he was seeing and he shuffled slightly, shaking his head trying to dislodge some of his fuzziness.

"Teyla," he croaked, his throat protesting at the use but she didn't stir. He tried to lift his arm and touch her somewhere but it felt like a dead weight and he groaned in pain as he jarred another injury. He stilled as he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and he slipped back into his slumber.

A few weeks later, when he opened his eyes, the room was bright from the sunlight sweeping in his window and he blinked, rolling his neck. His room was empty and he was glad. Since he'd woken up a couple of weeks before in the infirmary and managed to stay awake long enough for someone to actually realise that he was awake, he'd not been left alone. Even Rodney had visited him on his own two crutches, the look of guilt never leaving the mobile man's face. Then there had been the briefings and meetings and appointments with Halcyon, the new psychiatric doctor. He'd been glad even to need the toilet, so he could be alone even if only for a few moments.

His injuries had apparently been pretty bad. He'd bled out for a long time, lost far too much blood from the slit in his side that the natives had tried to pull his insides out through. His leg had been broken in three places from when he'd tumbled down the hillside in his rush to escape his captors. The fracture in his skull had required him to have brain surgery to remove a clot – he raised his hand to his newly growing hair and only managed to keep back the ridiculous pout at the loss of his hair. His dislocated shoulder and broken scapula had been the least of his worries, it'd seemed.

Rodney, of course, blamed himself because he hadn't been able to get the 'Gate working quickly enough. Ronon had blamed himself because he'd grabbed Rodney and jumped through the 'Gate as John had ordered before it had shut down, leaving him alone on a planet full of Neanderthal savages that would quite happily have ripped him apart if it hadn't been for the appearance of the Daedalus in orbit almost a day later.

And Teyla. He gripped onto the basin in front of him and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He hadn't seen Teyla since the night he vaguely remembered waking up and she was sleeping on the bed beside him. He'd been told – by whom, he couldn't quite remember – that she'd gone to visit her people with Kanan in preparation for giving birth to her second child. Initially, he'd felt slighted; he wanted to see her – no, he _needed_ to see her, to reassure himself that she was okay. His misplaced, drug induced anger towards her had ended with him murmuring to the empty air around him that it was unfair that he was always there for her when she needed him, yet when he needed her, she was gone. He still felt the residual energy of that anger as he scrubbed at his still bruised face. But then he had to feel content in the knowledge that she'd been there with him for one night at least when she should have been in bed with _him_.

He didn't like to think of himself as a jealous man and he really had no reason to be. He knew what Teyla meant to him and as time passed, those feelings had begun to change again – to accept her as the friend that she was. But the part of him that still harboured those kind of feelings for her held up its' hands in acknowledgement of the fact that it may have made John smile smugly when he realised she'd been there with him instead of with her husband.

He peeled off his shirt gently trying not to tug at his stitches; he'd already pulled them out twice already and he was pretty sure Keller wouldn't be too happy if he did it again. He'd managed to manoeuvre it over his shoulders when the door chimes echoed through the room. He was tempted to ignore the call – and he certainly would have – if the person hadn't chimed again and then entered without his permission.

Then he saw her, her silhouette outlined by the shards of disappearing light splitting the darkness of his sleeping room. He froze as his eyes met hers in the mirror and for a moment all thought fled from his mind as her eyes began to drift down his body. Then the city, ever responsive to his every whim, plunged the room into darkness before he'd even managed to conjure the thought.

"John..." she chastised gently as she fumbled around the room.

He could hear her clatter against something and he conceded, raising the lights enough for her to move around. If she hadn't been pregnant, he would not have been so easily moved. He dropped his hands to the basin again and leaned against it for support, his head coming to land on the cool mirror. He jerked slightly as a chill ran through his body, shuddering as it tingled down his back. He heard her sit on the toilet seat and he angled his head slightly in her direction. She was bigger than she had been the last time he had seen her and he pursed his lips at that. He knew that pregnant women changed quickly during their nine month cycle but seeing her so different only reinforced the knowledge that he hadn't seen her in almost a month; that she hadn't been there for him.

He closed his eyes as he pulled his head away from the mirror but he didn't loosen his grip on the sink; if anything, it tightened when he felt her hand on his thigh. He inhaled deeply, silently and let go with one hand, scrubbing it through his hair, down his still damp face and turned his body towards hers. In the darkness, he could face her. His eyes took in her form and whatever light there was drifting in from the slowly setting sun caught the band around her finger. He felt an unnameable tug and he slumped against the wall not far behind him, folding his arms.

"I have been with my people." He nodded mutely and watched as her hands fiddled with one another, the fingers of her right hand moving to twist the band on her left.

Seeing it there at that moment was affecting him more than it ever had before and he hated the feeling. He leaned his head back against the wall, stared at the corner of the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes.

He wasn't used to needing her like this.

"I can't..." He opened his eyes when she faltered and saw that she was staring at his half exposed body again, guilt marring her features. She stood up and the lights rose again slightly. She reached for the medical kit on the small table next to the sink and looked at John expectantly. He returned her gaze and pursed his lips, wondering if this was the best move he could make. He lowered his eyes from hers and pushed off from the wall. He tugged the shirt the rest of the way off his body without her help; removing his clothes was something far too intimate for him to allow her to do. As she cleaned the space around the stitches with calculated gentleness, he watched her hands move delicately over the wound, shaking every few seconds when they retracted from the mess. When he saw her lip disappear between her teeth, he looked to the wall on the opposite side of the room. "I..." she trailed off again, her fingers stilling somewhere over his stomach. "I miss going on missions."

John frowned at the quietness of her voice and tried to calm his breathing as her fingers skimmed the skin at the edge of his waistband. The antiseptic was beginning to nip his wound and he wanted her to both keep stroking his gently, but wash the antiseptic away. Her words tugged at his heart once more and glanced down, but didn't move.

"You haven't been on active duty for nearly two years."

He didn't know what the point in reminding her of this fact was but it seemed to trigger something inside of her and she stood up from her crouched position and dampened a cloth before dabbing the slice again. He hissed in pain as she pressed a little too firmly and she stilled, her fearful eyes reaching his.

"I... I'm sorry." He nodded, keeping his eyes on hers, his hands fluttering at his sides, asking permission to touch her. He denied it and she looked away, licking her lips. "I... That I wasn't there for you." He saw her inhale a breath and he didn't know what to say. Ridiculously, he _wanted_ her to apologise, to feel guilty for leaving him alone in the infirmary when it was obvious he would need her. "I feel I should have been with you on the mission... Not knowing what had happened to you..." She shook her head again and a sheen appeared in her eyes. He licked his own lips and glanced away from her, his heart rate increasing. "I should have been there." Her voice was logged with tears and he turned his eyes back to her, his hands betraying their orders and rising to cover her shuddering fingers.

"You're here now."

She glanced up at him then, there eyes fixed on one another, neither willing to look away. He felt something inside of him welling up, trying to burst through his lips, to immerse itself in her but he buried it deep, deep down and drew her electrified body to his, her belly clashing with his hard chest. As he held her tightly, he squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head, lowering his six foot two frame so he could his nose into her hair, hide the sudden tears in his eyes from the world. The bruises on his body throbbed at the pressure against them but holding her in his arms was worth the pain.

When she pulled back, her face was wet and she lifted her hands up to her face and chuckled slightly as she palmed the wetness away.

"Hormones," John muttered good naturedly and used her distraction to swipe at his own eyes.

She nodded and smiled up at him before reaching behind her and finished dressing his cut. She didn't ask what had happened and he gathered that she either already knew, or she didn't want to know. He could understand her not wanting to know; the slice was gruesome, from his hip right up to his rib cage, deep from where they'd expertly prodded about trying to find something to pull out. Her fingers hesitated once she'd pressed the clean white gauze down, her eyes fixed on his chest. He could sense her hesitancy to leave and he was glad that he wasn't the only one who didn't want her to move. He covered her hands with his once again, flattening them onto his stomach just above his waist band. She looked at him surprised at the intimacy of the gesture but she smiled and leaned her head into his chest for a moment.

"Caldwell's crew brought a couple of new movies with them; I have some on my computer."

He didn't need to elaborate on what he was implying. He felt her nod against his chest and pull back. He manoeuvred his arms into his shirt again and vowed that he'd where a button down from then until his shoulder was better.

When the movie began playing, the shifted on the bed, nervous at first because of what had happened _last time_ they'd been there but it dissipated quickly. That wasn't what this was about. He turned to her and saw her sitting stiffly beside him, trying not to touch him. He lifted his arm tentatively and tucked her into his body. She complied easily, shifting so they were flush against one another. Her hand fell across his chest and John dipped his head so his cheek rested on her hair.

When he opened his eyes again, hours later, it was dark and he was alone.

And he was okay with that.

For a little while, at least.


	18. Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> episodes: season 4

"What is that?"

John looked up from the two items on the table in front of him. He smiled at Teyla as she took a seat next to Ronon at the table. John spooned the mound of cereal into his mouth and used the end of his spoon to push the two pieces of paper towards her. She frowned at him slightly before reaching forward and lifting them to view. Her eyebrows rose to her hairline and she pursed her lips in John's direction, who simply shrugged.

"Hey," Rodney spat out past a mouthful of toast as he dropped onto the chair next to John. "What's that?" He nodded towards the items that Teyla had placed on the table.

"An invite to my ex-wife's wedding." Rodney's eyebrows rose too, his bottom lip protruding before he turned back to his food. "I know we're back to being... friends." He didn't let his mind think about the last time they'd been together back on Earth when he'd gone back to escape from Teyla. "But this is just weird."

"Who invites their ex-husband to their wedding?"

John nodded emphatically. That had been his thinking when he'd received the letter and the invite. His fingers reached out it again and he turned it towards him, tilting it so the silver writing glinted in the light. He grunted and dropped it flat again, crunching the Cheerios in his mouth.

"Maybe she wants you to show up on a white horse and whisk her away."

Both John and Ronon snorted in laughter at that but John's mind had thought of that possibility. Maybe not the whole white horse thing but he was sure that, even though they'd discussed having 'moved on', he'd thought she was hinting at something before she'd gotten into her hybrid and drove off back to Derek.

"Maybe she's pregnant."

John choked at Ronon's words and his eyes bugged out of his head as the cool milk burned holes in his lungs. He glared across the table at Ronon, drawing his eyes away from him to glance at Teyla, who too was pregnant, who had remained suspiciously silent throughout the conversation. His eyebrows twitched together in concern for her but it was eradicated when Rodney's voice interrupted his musings;

"And what has that got to do with Sheppard going to her wedding?"

John glared across the table to Ronon, _daring_ him to even _think_ of saying it. He saw the mischievous – though John was convinced it was malicious – glint in the Satedan's eyes, saw the tiny corners of his mouth dart up and John began shaking his head slowly, almost imperceptible.

"Because it could be Sheppard's."

John felt her eyes on his face instantly but he kept his fixed firmly on Ronon's, his jaw tense. He felt anger surge through him and he was sure that if he'd had any kind of weapon on him at that point that he may have in fact blasted Ronon into infinity with it.

"How could it possibly be Sheppar...d's-oh." John could practically hear the pieces coming together in Rodney's mind – not to mention Teyla's – and he rolled his eyes enigmatically. " _Oh._ Isn't she... of course she is, wedding invitation...? Sheppard, you..."

"Shut up, Rodney!" He ground out through gritted teeth, his eyes finally sliding to Teyla, who had averted her gaze to her own breakfast. "She's not pregnant. She can't... well, I mean she _can_ but it's very difficult and I doubt... You know what, I don't have to explain myself to you. But I will tell you that she's not pregnant, and I'm not going and it's none of your god damn business!" He raised his eyebrow at Ronon who simply smirked, his eyes never leaving John's face.

Ronon had it in for him and John had no idea why. And he didn't like it.

"Excuse me."

Teyla stood up and nodded to them before leaving the mess hall. John followed her with his eyes until she disappeared through the door, guilt tugging at his heart. It was ridiculous because they weren't together – she was _married_ for crying out loud. Still it didn't lessen the sting. It made What Had Happened between them seem less... important than it was. He sighed as the doors slid shut and glared once more at Ronon.

He only stopped glaring when Rodney's voice – and hand – interrupted his quiet musings on how to ambush Ronon.

"Do you think she's coming back?" John watched Rodney's finger point to where Teyla had been and he shook his head again. "Do you think she'll mind if I..." he gestured to her plate again and both John and Ronon rolled their eyes, shaking their heads. "Good because I am starving!"

"Here, you can have mine too."

He stood up, having suddenly lost his appetite, making sure that his booted toe came into sharp contact with Ronon's shin. Ronon simply laughed on an out breath and began eating once more.

"Hey, are you all right?"

John nodded to Rodney and walked briskly out of the mess hall, not sure where he was heading.

He would be okay.

One day.


	19. Bitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: season 4

It was when they were alone again that John felt the irrepressible urge to run away.

If he was honest, really, he'd even felt like running away when there had been a room full of people there to greet them. But being in a confined space with her? Well, that was something he wasn't exactly sure he could do. He pottered about with a couple of medical instruments, tossed them from hand to hand and wondered when the hell Keller would get there and let him out of his misery.

Back on the planet they'd been sent to investigate as a possible new home for the recently found Athosians, both John and Teyla had not so much _enjoyed_ as experienced a tumble in the bushes. Even though she had just lost her son, Doran, she had insisted she be allowed to accompany her team on the search for a suitable planet; it was, after all, for her people. And besides, she needed to get out of the base for a while. John had been sceptical, wondering just how focussed she would be after experiencing such a tragic burden only a week or so before. And his worries had been proven as well-founded.

She'd been bitten by something. What, they didn't know. But it had sent Teyla high as a kite and she'd gallivanted off into surrounding woods somewhere as she'd brought up the rear and it was only the scattered line of clothes that indicated which way she had gone. McKay had insisted on going no further when they came across her black tank top, followed by her new black leather trousers. Ronon had continued until they'd found her bra dangling from a tree branch somewhere above John's head. And John; well, he'd wanted to give up as soon as her BDU jacket had been found at the start of the trail.

Instead, he'd continued on. He found her, eventually, sitting, cross legged in a stream with water half way up her torso. And she was naked. He'd closed his initially before realising that it would not be conducive to his manoeuvring around the water and pulling her to shore. And that's what he'd have to do, he was sure if her happy giggles of glee and the multitude of splashing were anything to go by.

He sighed, resigned and started removing his own boots and socks, tucking his trousers up as far as they would go before wading into the rushing water in the general direction of a still giggling, still splashing Teyla.

And then he felt it. He wasn't sure exactly what _it_ was but when he spluttered to the surface and found a still _very_ naked Teyla Emmagan standing over him, a devilish grin spread across her face, he felt a very different _it_ entirely.

Aghast, he pulled himself out of the water so he was standing in front of Teyla, his hands on his hips mirroring her posture and glowered at her. She pouted – actually pouted – before jumping into the air, landing on her back and splashing water all over John once again. He covered his face with his hands in guise of wiping the water away but was, in fact, hiding the ridiculous half grin, half wince that twisted his lips.

Somehow he'd managed to convince her that maybe coming home with him was the best option for all involved. As he'd covered her with his sodden jacket, he _may_ have promised to let her swim in the endless pool that was the ocean surrounding Atlantis.

Collecting her clothes was the easy part. Trying to get them to stay on her was wherein the difficulty lay. He'd had to clasp her bra three times before agreeing with her that maybe it was best left off. He'd then had to pull her tight tank top down over her very naked body, while trying not to let his mind think of when else he'd seen her so bare to him. When he'd looked up from tying her boots, he found her top once again removed and he'd rolled his eyes before tugging it back on and zipping up her jacket. He'd had to hold her hand all the way back to 'Gate to stop her from removing any more clothing.

Which had led them to being cooped up together in the infirmary as whatever it was that was in Teyla's system wore off.

As if being around Teyla wasn't awkward enough.

He sighed and dropped onto the bed beside hers and scrubbed his face with his hand and let out a yell of frustration.

"John, I am sorry."

"I thought I told you to stop apologising," he accused, a little more harshly than he'd intended. She looked startled for a moment before her eyes had dipped from his, a rosy tint appearing on her cheeks. He'd admit to himself that he quite liked that effect. "Sorry," he murmured, his own eyes falling from her body. He heard her sigh and looked up at her, seeing a sheen of tears in her eyes. "Hey..." he hopped off his bed and hovered in front of her, not entirely sure if he should touch her. "Are you all right?"

Her nod was anything but convincing. His finger reached out and brushed the back of her forearm, tracing a hazy line from her elbow to her wrist. The touch was electrifying. Her eyes caught his and he knew that she was thinking about the same thing he was and he was glad. A tear fell from her eye and his fingers automatically wiped it away.

"I just wanted to be helpful."

John nodded. He could understand that. It didn't make the fact that she was still grieving any different.

"Up until you started stripping, you were very helpful. And afterwards, even more so; if you hadn't been bitten by that thing, we'd have sent your people to that planet and who knows what could have happened." His reward was a small laugh and he smiled to himself. "Come here." He pulled her into his arms and she went easily. His hands stroked her back as he felt her silent tears soak through his only just dried shirt. He ducked his head into hers and inhaled, murmuring incoherent words of encouragement.

And that's how Keller found them, minutes later; temple to cheek, eyes closed.

John found that he wasn't so eager to see her anymore.


	20. Sentiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> episodes: season 4

There were a lot of things John Sheppard had become used to during his lengthy stay in the city of the Ancients. Before, the thought of machinery that responded to thought would have been absurd; the idea of him controlling a flying city from a chair; the idea that Vampire like creatures were in actual fact very real; the idea that he could lose so many people under his command, so many friends... All of those things he'd come to expect and although it hurt ad although it freaked him out, he was always able to come to terms with it. But seeing Teyla, her petite frame heavy with pregnancy, highlighted against rays from the milky moons as she rested on a balcony of Atlantis was something he didn't think he'd ever get used to.

On his silent midnight vigils of the city, he rarely found anything to report. They were quiet and peaceful and the long walk around the many levels of the control tower always had the desired effect of tiring him out so that when he returned to his room, he'd be able to slide in between his covers, close his eyes and drift into slumber. Occasionally, he came across someone who wanted to show him something and a few times he'd come across members of his team sitting by themselves but he'd continue on, knowing that his presence was not what they expected or wanted.

Yet, he found himself wondering to himself if he should go out to Teyla. The nights were always cool and she had no coat or shawl on like she usually had on her own midnight vigils; he couldn't help but worry. Her head was tilted up to the sky and although he couldn't make out her features, he could imagine that her eyes were closed. He took a step towards the doors but halted, taking a step back before they could swish open. She looked content enough without him intruding. Besides, she might be waiting for Kanan. He looked at his watch and saw that it was well past midnight. Maybe she wanted to be alone.

Resolved, he nodded to himself but before he could make a move away from his position her head lowered and her she turned, looking through the windows into the city. John could see her smile in the diaphanous glow; it was welcoming, yet understanding. She was giving him the choice to walk away.

As he stepped out onto the balcony, the cool air drifted past his layers of clothing and caressed his warm skin. The shiver was instantaneous. He stood a step or two behind her but gripped the railing with his hands and breathed in the cool salty air. From their vantage point he could see two piers of the city, could hear the water breaking against the edges surrounding him. It was a comforting sound.

He turned his head in her direction after a few minutes of silence and found that her eyes were once again closed. He took a moment to look over her body. She looked ready to burst any moment and he wasn't the only one that noticed it; the whole city seemed to be counting the hours until she was whisked into the infirmary to give birth. It was as if the city itself knew as there seemed to be an air of tranquil excitement oozing from the walls, captivating the members of the expedition.

The past weeks had been uneventful and although John was grateful for some time off, he was beginning to feel restlessness settle in. He wasn't used to having a moment to think in the Pegasus galaxy – just another one of those things that had become a part of his everyday life – and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Bur still, in a time filled with quiet moments, he enjoyed these ones the most.

"He has been restless." John swept his gaze back to her face at her words. She looked tired, he noted, now that her eyes were open. Her hand drifted down to her stomach and John's eyes followed the unconscious gesture.

"He?" She nodded and John couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. "You didn't tell me."

She shook her head and smiled at him sadly.

"I told no one." John nodded in comprehension. He understood. "I have not yet named him." John frowned at that. With Doran, her first child, she'd chosen the name for him almost as soon as she'd told them she was pregnant. "No name I choose feels appropriate."

John reached out and touched the back of her hand with his index finger. He found he'd been doing that a lot, lately. Teyla was not a person who craved contact – hell, neither was he – but it seemed that when they were together, touches flowed like nature as though each was assuring themselves that the other was there because when they were together, alone, they felt they were at their most vulnerable. And John didn't mind that, not really.

"It'll come to you when you see him," he murmured encouragingly, withdrawing his touch. He turned back to the view and watched as the stars twinkled in and out of focus behind thin clouds. He knew he couldn't push Teyla to talk; he never had.

"I feel..." She trailed off and John turned towards her slightly but did not intrude on her personal space. He could see the struggle on her face; saw her jaw working around the words that were stuck on a lump in her throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her again; he knew she didn't need that. Instead, he turned his eyes back to the horizon, lowered his lids and waited on her continuing. "I feel that by being excited about this child... Because it is so soon after Doran..." John closed his eyes and felt her pain wash through him, tingling his every nerve end. He pushed his own pain away. "I feel like I am forgetting him, that I am... _belittling_ what he meant to me and I..."

The final words caught in her throat and he heard the sob take hold as her hand rose to cover her face. He covered her shoulder with his hand and she folded into him easily, and he wrapped his arms around her body. Her side was pressed against his torso so that John could feel the little one's restless moves, and she turned her face into his chest. As his own pain for her took over him, John felt so perfectly in tune with her that it almost scared him. The sigh that escaped his lips was heavier than he'd intended it to be.

"You are _not_ forgetting him at all. You know you're not. I know that every time you look at this little guy..." He had only meant it as a fleeting gesture but his hand came to rest against her swollen stomach. "You'll remember Doran. Having another child won't diminish your love for him. Sure, it'll be hard – really hard – for a few months after he's born but Teyla... you can't resent your new kid because you want to cling to the memory of your first."

Her sniffs paused for second before she tugged him closer to him, bunching his shirt up in her fists. To be honest, he was surprised by his own speech so he could only imagine the impact it would have on anyone else; he only hoped that none of his marines had been around the hear it.

"But what if I..."

Clarity came to him then, like the proverbial light bulb in a darkened room and he instantly interrupted her, thrusting her body away from him and gripping her tightly by the two arms, almost shaking her.

"Teyla, _no._ We've talked about this." He didn't want to think so much about _when_ they'd talked about it but they had. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't kill Doran." He saw her eyes well up with tears again and she tried to look away. He gripped her chin between his thumb and fore finger, commanding her to look at him. "It wasn't your fault."

"If only I had been more careful," she whispered with more than a hint of self-accusation in her tone.

"You what? What would have happened? These things happen. He went to sleep, Teyla, like he'd done for months before. Tell me, what could you have done differently?"

She ripped herself from his grasp and turned away from him, waddling back and forth as her hands came up to tug at the strands of her hair around her face.

"I shouldn't have gone to sleep!" She yelled angrily and spun towards him, anger burning through her eyes.

John felt incredulous anger build up within his own body and he too lifted his hands to the side of his face and made silent gestures towards her, hoping like he normally did that the words would simply pour out. They didn't and they were both silent, staring at one another across metres of empty air. He dropped his hands and she relaxed her stance but neither let go of the others eyes.

"I'm not having this conversation again." She raised an eyebrow at him and he tilted his head, daring her to respond. She didn't. "One day, you're going to realise that I'm right."

She only stared at him and John began to feel uncomfortable. He shifted from one foot to the other until she turned away from him, gathering herself together near the railing. He didn't move towards her, or speak, or even dare breathe for fear that she may turn around and unleash her hormones upon him. It wasn't until he heard her sigh that he allowed himself to relax. He ran a hand across his face and peered at her through his fingers as she raised a hand to the small of her back.

"Sore back?"

He saw her nod and he moved closer to her, instinct taking over. He hovered behind her, his hands lingering by his sides and he watched the horizon melt into the ocean.

"Like I said, he has been very restless tonight."

As his next words passed his lips, his fingers reached out and replaced her own, rubbing in soothing circles around the dimples that he knew were there at the base of her spine.

"I think he's getting ready to pop out."

He heard her small laugh and he raised his hands to her shoulders, urging her to sit down. After she'd slid her legs through the gap in the rails (he had to laugh, she was still about a foot away from the edge because of how big she was), he slid down behind her, his legs on either side of her body, careful to avoid bumping her with his cast, his hands returned to their position. He saw her head lull forward and he smiled. His eyes trained on the horizon, his fingers working from instinct, and he let his mind wander. The sea beneath them swished against itself, the city seeped tranquillity and John could feel restfulness settle into his shoulders.

He sat there long after his fingers had stopped soothing her back, with his arms around her torso, resting on either side of her pregnant body. His palms were flat against the swollen mound and he rubbed it occasionally, his fingers strumming a quiet tune of reassurance to the little guy, his thoughts echoing the same sentiments. It hadn't been long before both mother and child had drifted off.

And still he sat, as night turned to twilight, his own head heavy, letting the peacefulness seep into his soul.


	21. Assurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Season 4

When she stepped up onto the platform in the mess hall, she heard his low laugh rumble through the almost empty cafeteria. She felt a small smile tug at the corner of her lips as she realised that her friend was still there. It had been many days since she had last spoken with him – since the morning they'd spent out on one of the balconies of the main tower, in fact. She had spent longer without his company but she had sought him out purposely that morning as she knew she would not see him for some time, as she was to return to her people's new home world to give birth to her child that day.

Then her step faltered slightly when she heard the girlish giggle that followed his chuckle and she cocked her head to the side slightly. As she rounded the corner, she saw him – _them,_ actually – tucked away in the corner at a small table and she frowned. She did not recall ever having seen the woman he was sharing breakfast with before. She looked around the mess hall in hopes of finding another whom she could sit with but the room was filled with people she barely knew.

She turned back to them and saw him point at the woman with his spoon, a smile playing around his mouth, his eyebrows raised comically. It was a sight she had not seen for some time. She felt something tug in her chest but she pushed the thought away, adjusting her tray of food so she could drop a comforting hand to her restless son. Resolved, she moved towards them, listening as their conversation washed over her. She did not know of what they spoke but the way in which John's face lit up told her that he was enjoying their conversation.

He had yet to notice her approach.

She stepped up beside the table and smiled down at him as he thrust a spoonful of food into his mouth, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed her, before looking away awkwardly, pushing his spoon into his oatmeal. He tugged the chair beside him out and smiled at her as she manoeuvred into it.

She looked to her other companion with interest; the woman was younger than Teyla, her hair was lighter and longer, a _pony-tail_ tucked in on itself in a fashion that Teyla had seen amongst many of the women from Earth. She noted the blue colour of her uniform and assumed that she had come to Atlantis with the fresh batch of military personnel on the Daedalus.

John cleared his throat and Teyla slid her eyes to him as she picked up her roll.

"Teyla, this is Captain Conlin, she's... she's the new member of my team." Teyla felt her stomach clinch at that but she smiled to the young woman. She recognised the flag on her arm as that which Rodney sported. She eyed her quickly, noting her athletic form. She'd known he'd have to replace her one day. "Captain, this is Teyla Emmagan, the leader of Athos." She laid down her roll and extended her hand, which Conlin took eagerly.

"It's a real honour to meet you."

Teyla smiled and prodded her breakfast, suddenly having lost her appetite. She dropped her hand to her stomach once more and rubbed it gently. She really felt like she was ready to burst at any moment. She both relished and dreaded the thought of bringing another child into the world. It was a fear she'd shared only with John and she saw his eyes follow her motion and she was comforted.

"I was just telling Gill," Teyla tried not to frown at the use of the woman's first name, "about some of the training she'll be... _What_ the hell are you eating?"

She smiled at him sheepishly around a mouthful of roll that she hadn't even realised she'd picked up.

"It's a fruit found on Athosia, a few slices of cucumber and bacon." She saw his face crinkle in distaste and she laughed slightly, thrusting it in his direction. "Would you like some?" He shook his head emphatically and held up his hands. "Surprisingly, it's very good."

"Well, you can keep it. I'll stick with my oatmeal thank you very much."

To prove his point, he stuck his full spoon into his mouth, munching happily causing both women to laugh. She recognised the glint in his eye and something tugged at her chest again as she realised he was showing off for the woman sitting across from the table. Teyla turned back to the woman and saw that she was grinning widely, her eyes fixed on John's face. Teyla raised an eyebrow and glanced at John; he knew very well the reaction he was incurring.

Teyla dropped the remainder of her roll onto her plate and took a sip of John's orange juice. She saw Conlin's eyes dart to her for a moment before she glanced down to her own plate. Teyla thought she felt a triumphant smirk tug at her lips but she pushed the ridiculous thought aside.

"If you don't mind my asking, how much longer have you got to go?" Conlin asked as she gestured towards Teyla's stomach.

Teyla felt the smile tug at her lips again at the thought of her son.

"Very soon. That is why I came to find you, John," she told him as he took his cup from her hands and sipped on it. "I will be leaving for Athosia in a few hours and wished to say goodbye." She saw him nod, even though a frown appeared on his features.

"You know I – _we_ – would prefer it if you stayed on Atlantis to give birth."

She fixed him with an exasperated stare. She knew full well that he wanted her to stay on Atlantis where she could have 'proper medical treatment' but there were traditions amongst her people that would not be carried out on Atlantis. And besides, as she'd reminded him, he hadn't minded the first time around.

"My people have had many children long before _your_ people came to this galaxy. I am quite sure I will be perfectly fine."

She saw the uncertainty creep over his face and she wondered where his new found concern was stemming from. Granted, she appreciated that her team – her _former_ team, she reminded herself as she cast a glance at Conlin – worried for her safety but there were things that occurred that they could not appreciate. The birth of a child, especially a son – although no one besides she and John knew the sex of her child, not even Kanan – was steeped in tradition, a tradition that went as far back as her people could remember.

She watched him purse his lips and angle his head.

"I don't know..."

He didn't finish his sentence and Teyla didn't continue it either. She felt a heavy atmosphere settle over the table as she leaned back in her chair, trying to ease the ache in the small of her back.

"Have you chosen any names yet?" Teyla appreciated Conlin's efforts and she rewarded her with a smile.

"I have not." She paused, casting a cursory glance towards John before smiling at Conlin. "I will know it when I see them for the first time." She could almost feel the warm glow from his smile. Conlin smiled at her and Teyla thought that she could like her replacement.

The conversation continued around her as Teyla tuned out and listened to her body. Her womb flickered continuously, despite her soothing gestures and her back ached from the weight applied to it. Teyla heard him laughing some more, heard a few flirtatious words and saw a few glances pass from one to the other and she suddenly felt like an outsider, an intruder in a moment that she had wanted to share with her closest friend. It was ridiculous, really, and she knew it and yet, there is was, glaring at her. She shifted in her seat and, although he didn't look at her, she saw John's head jerk ever so slightly in her direction, saw his arm flex minutely in her direction.

"Are you all right?" His voice jerked her from her thoughts and she nodded without looking at him. "Are you sure? Maybe you should go see Keller."

"John," she admonished and he pursed his lips, a sheepish expression appearing across his features. She heard her name being called and she saw Kanan a few feet away. She felt John tense beside her, could almost feel the change in his manner as his body echoed the stillness in his eyes. She nodded to her husband. "I must be going."

She attempted to stand but failed and from one eye she saw Kanan advance towards her and with the other she saw John's had extended to her. He had moved so fast she hadn't even seen him stand, despite his leg being in plaster. She accepted his hand and let him pull her up, noting how he winced as she weighed down his healing arm. She felt instantaneous guilt swim through her, and she remembered that she had not been there for him when he'd been injured so. She felt even more alienated than she had moments before. Ridiculously, she felt bereft when his hand let hers go.

As she stepped away, she felt it; the faintest whisper of skin against skin as his finger found the root of her aching back by instinct; reassurance that she would be okay; reassurance that he was there and that he understood.

In that moment, her son was at peace.


	22. Recurrence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Season 4

Lying in his bed, John Sheppard couldn't breathe.

The first time, it had been bad; he wasn't sure how he was meant to cope with it this time. He actually believed that, despite What Had Happened (round two), he'd gotten over her. He grunted into the covers under his mouth and shook his head incredulously. He'd resigned himself to the fact that he – _cared_ for her but he'd wanted to believe that it wasn't like that.

Rolling onto his back, John breathed in deeply and threw an arm over his sweaty forehead, shielding his eyes from the piercing sunlight. He shook his head again and rolled his eyes, wondering just how stupid he really was.

He guessed he shouldn't really have been surprised, despite what she'd gone through with Doran. It stood to reason – and his understanding of Teyla – that she'd try again to try and get over what had happened, first time around.

When she'd approached him as he'd returned from a mundane mission to some even more mundane planet and ushered him behind a curtain in the infirmary, his heart had constricted with fear. Then she'd broken down in tears, muttering words that he had difficulty understanding and he'd tried to be the friend he'd promised them both he would be.

He'd even managed to wait a few minutes before he ran. He didn't know long he'd been running for but he'd found himself outside the gym, sweat dripping from his hair. Then he'd found himself sparring – okay, being beaten up – by Ronon, Lorne, Keter (the new member of the Athos team stationed on Atlantis) and then running again for close on two hours. If his plan had been to exhaust his body to a point where he couldn't physically think of anything else besides the pain in his muscles, then he'd succeeded.

But when he'd tumbled into bed, still wearing the same clothes from the mission, the run, the spar and then the final run, the adrenaline had left him pumped up so much that sleep was not a viable option. And that left him with more than enough time to think about Teyla and her pregnancy, round two.

He felt it like a two tonne truck when she had collapsed onto the bed beside him, tears wreaking havoc on her beautiful features. He could only imagine what she had to be going through, especially so soon after losing Doran. The anguish on her features as she had hidden her face behind her hands and tried to control the earth-shuddering sobs had been enough for him to reach out and rub his hand soothingly across her shoulders. She hadn't responded to the touch and John wondered if she even remembered that he was there.

But then her eyes had turned up to look into his and he'd felt it all over again. The unadulterated fear there was so plain for him to see that he took a step back as the force of it sent something lurching in his stomach.

He'd lowered his eyes, not knowing what to say. His hand involuntarily reached out to touch her but he snapped it back to his side and he ordered it to stay there. He'd known it was neither appropriate nor what she had needed but he murmured his congratulations, touched her arm before he'd fled.

As the moon's rays splintered his room, guilt weighed heavily down on him. She'd needed him and he'd been too much of a coward to be there for her. But when she'd looked at him... He still didn't understand the rush of emotions that had surged through him and he was _really_ not good at that type of thing. But she'd needed him. He kicked, idiotically, at the empty air around his bed before laughing incredulously at himself.

"What are you _doing_?" He admonished himself and pushed himself up from the bed, tugging his stale, smelly shirt over his head and tossed it to the other side of the room. He wandered into the bathroom and flipped the shower on. Stopping in front his mirror, he took in his soaked hair that was sticking to his forehead in a manner most unusual for his trademark cow's licked hair. He watched his reflection slowly disappear as the mist covered the room, condensing on the cool glass.

He dropped his head onto the mirror and closed his eyes. After What Had Happened, he'd promised he'd be her friend – the friend he'd promised her years ago that he would always be. He hadn't been there for her when she had needed him the most, when her son had died; when she'd cried around the cremated remains of the tiny casket. He'd been too selfish and ignorant and on Earth. He let out an agonised laugh at that. He'd been on Earth _with Nancy_ when her son had died and she'd been in pain.

Part of him knew his guilt was ill-founded and misplaced but it didn't mean the rest of him listened to it. He was her friend, her _family_ – he should be there for her. And he'd failed her.

Resolved, he stripped the rest of his clothes off and stepped under the scalding water, burning off his coat of distance.

For her, he'd be good at that type of thing. Because _they_ needed him to be.


	23. Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: season 4

John Sheppard didn't like not knowing what was going on, that much he knew. He'd tuned out from those around him and had entered into a kind of involuntary meditation. The wall opposite him thumped in and out of focus as his heart pounded blood and pain through his body; words floated around his ears but none were picked up over the rush of blood in his ears; senses came and went as he tuned into a song that swayed the walls of the city.

Something was going on and John Sheppard didn't like not knowing what it was.

The walls of the city thrummed with anxious anticipation, needing but dreading a resolution to what was going on. He was afraid that if he broke his concentration even more a moment, he'd lose his last link to sanity and then he'd really be in trouble. He saw the lights flickering and dimming in his blinkered vision and he wondered if it was really happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him.

"John?"

Slowly, his mind came back to him and pain came rushing in past his walls and he let out an agonised breath and dropped his head into his hands, almost sliding off the seat he was sitting in. Moments of weakness were not what he needed; moments where he could let himself feel the pain he was trying so desperately to block out.

"Are you doing this?"

He split his fingers and saw the lights still flickering, dimming, the walls swaying in and out of focus as his head pounded in protest. He shrugged but didn't look to his commander. He felt sick. He felt suffocated. Slowly, he stood but his leg gave way under him and he reached out to the wall for support but jerked his hand away as though burned. The _city_ was in pain and it seeped into John like a poison. He had to get away. He felt a hand on his arm and he looked at the owner, his friend; the Satedan's silent support was more than John could handle and he closed his eyes against it.

"She'll be okay."

John looked up into his eyes but shook his head. He wasn't so sure of that. The city was whispering to itself, conspiring against him and John felt anger build up in him again.

"I'm just glad this happened when she was still here." John fixed Rodney with a stare and for a moment, the smaller man looked afraid. "Not that... not that I'm glad this happened. Just that she was here and... Not on Athosia."

John's eyes slid away from Rodney to Kanan who had been silent since he'd been ushered out of the infirmary. In fact, John was pretty sure he hadn't moved either. He felt his fingers twitch and he wanted to lash out at something again, wanted to kick and scream until his body wouldn't allow him anymore. But he'd already did that and it hadn't accomplished anything other than to bloody his fingers and probably re-break the leg he'd only had removed from plaster hours before.

He slumped into his seat once again and hung his head low on his chest, knowing there was nothing that could be done. They'd waited for too long, and John wanted to know what was going on. His head lolled and he felt something try to take over him once more. He jumped up and kicked the chair, sending it clattering down the hall.

"Why haven't we heard anything?" He yelled in the direction the chair had flown and punched the wall beside him. Rationally, he knew it would do no good but rationality was not something his brain could understand at that moment. It had only been that morning that he'd shared breakfast with her and Conlin, that she'd sought him out to say goodbye before going off world to give birth to her son. And now, they were huddled around the double doors of the operating room in the infirmary, waiting on news if she and her son would be okay.

John didn't think he'd be able to handle it if anything happened to her.

"She should be with her people."

John spun on his heel and glowered at Kanan, who'd spoken up from his seated position. He found the younger man staring back at him, his eyes empty of emotion and John almost felt compassion for him.

" _We_ are her people."

He saw Kanan sigh and he felt his blood boil in his veins.

"She should be with her people on Athosia."

John hesitated for a moment, staring, wondering before something inside of him snapped and he lunged. He never made it to his target and he found that his feet no longer touched the ground.

"Let go of me! Ronon!" He struggled against the bigger man's arms but it was no use. He sagged a moment and felt Ronon's arms loosen their grip. He shrugged him off and cracked his neck, not able to lift his eyes from the floor. His outbursts were doing no one any good. He moved to the wall and stood in front of it, dropping his head onto it with a thud, trying to control his breathing. He leaned his shoulder against it and turned his eyes to Kanan, who had returned to sitting with his head lowered. "If she had gone through the 'Gate... if she'd been on Athosia..."

Kanan's eyes rose and caught John's. They stared at one another for a moment and John thought he saw realisation in Kanan's eyes before the desolation enveloped it.

"She would be dead, Colonel, I know. I just..."

John understood because he felt the exact same way. He saw him sigh and John turned his eyes away back to Ronon and Rodney and Carter. The city had seemed to stop moving as soon as Teyla had collapsed in the control room as Chuck had dialled Athosia. John had been in the infirmary having his leg looked at when he got the call that Teyla needed medical assistance. And the rest was a blur. He remembered running, and breathing, and lashing out, and demanding to know what had happened but no matter what anyone told him, he had been unable to calm down. Keller had threatened him with a sedative if he didn't let one of her nurse's look at his leg before she'd disappeared behind the double doors.

John sunk to the floor and drew his legs up to his chest, ignoring the almost over-whelming pain in his leg now that the pain killer had worn off. John felt something tugging at the back of his mind and he closed his eyes, trying to ward it off. He didn't need to think like that. John opened his eyes when the corridor plunged into darkness; he sighed and they reactivated.

"It must be you," Rodney told him and John glared at him. "I'm sorry, okay? But this is _very_ unusual." John raised his eyebrows. "Well obviously you have the Ancient gene stronger than any of us and the city is responding to you."

John pursed his lips before shaking his head.

"I don't think so, Rodney."

Rodney sighed exasperated and looked to Carter who nodded.

"It's very possible, John. You know the city responds to thought and your presence..." John looked away from her as realisation settled in. He so didn't need this. "You have to control your emotions."

"Hey!" He protested. "My emotions are perfectly controlled."

No one answered but both Rodney and Ronon raised their eyebrows, sceptical smirks teasing the edges of their lips. John closed his eyes and drew his hand across his face. He really needed fresh air. And a drink - a very strong one. Standing on shaky legs, he managed to take a few steps before something stopped him and he turned, his eyes fixed on the doors. He stared hard and he felt the door control being activated before the doors slid open. Simultaneously, they took a step forward towards Jennifer Keller but John didn't stop until he was right in front of her beside Kanan.

"How is she?"

John couldn't listen as she answered and his eyes were instantly skimming past her, looking into the room behind her. In an incubator, surrounded by nurses and machines he saw a baby. A very, very still baby. He felt his stomach drop from his body, swayed as his body emptied of blood; felt dizzy and light-headed as thought evacuated his head. He stepped around Keller, heard her stop talking as she turned to him.

"Colonel, you can't-"

"Is he all right?"

The words sounded foreign to him, as though they weren't his own as he spoke them. He felt as though he was back in the storm, that his words were being snatched by the air before they reached his ears. He couldn't take his eyes from the prone infant and he felt his chest ache as his heart bucked slowly against his rib cage. The lights flickered.

"He will be," he heard her murmur and he flickered his eyes in her direction before turning his vision back to the incubator. Adrenaline surged inside of him like a tidal wave. "How did you know...?"

John didn't answer her.

Instead, he pivoted on his heel and ran. He ran as fast as he could down empty corridors, ran even as the pain in his leg became unbearable. He collapsed in a heap on the floor on a secluded balcony, his breathing laboured and faulty, his vision blurring around the edges as tears misted from his eyelids.

The central tower descended into darkness as he let his emotions swim over him.

Then John Sheppard let himself cry.


	24. Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Season 4

"I... I should go."

And yet his body did not move; his feet betrayed his mind's desire to leave; his hands won the battle against his rationale and touched her arm; he felt something inside of him wither as another part blossomed into life and spread almost as far as the outskirts of his heart. His eyes turned back to the horizon for a moment, losing another piece of himself to her. It had been something that had happened slowly and in small amounts that it had neither frightened nor startled him when the words had eventually tumbled out, even if there had been no one there to hear them. But seeing her there, beside him on a desolate section of pier, separated from the rest of the city highlighted just how wrong, how absurd their relationship had become.

She no longer sought him out and he no longer wanted her to. It hurt too much, knowing that she would leave and return to her husband and their child. It hurt because he never wanted her to leave; he wanted her to be with him, to stay with him... to love him. He was selfish and he was petty – he knew this but he'd tried the whole 'love and let love' approach and it hadn't really worked out so well for him. No matter how they rationalised their night spent together, it meant something to them – to _him_ -; something more than friendship, something that he couldn't explain because when he tried to, whenever he tried to rationalise it now, his heart taunted him and he was pretty sure that if it was at all possible, the muscle would have pointed at him and laughed until tears spouted from its' eyes.

The warm breeze whipped her hair into his face and he brushed it away, resisting the urge to tuck it behind her ear. His jacket bustled in the breeze but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. His eyes found hers once more and he saw something there; something akin to what he knew must be in his. A longing, so deep and wonderful that it ached all the way down to his belly; an understanding that _this_ was all they had and he felt his mind trampling all over his heart, stomping it into the ground, jumping with glee at its triumph. It hurt. It _really_ hurt. He'd thought he could do it; thought he'd be able to survive her but he'd been wrong. She'd lynched him the day she'd pursed her lips at him and told him he did not look through her and, for a moment, he was glad.

He didn't exactly regret falling for Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan but he could find no joy in it now. Every time he looked upon her six month old child, whose hair was too dark to be in sync with hers and eyes that were too green to be Kanan's, something inside of him pulled, something sharp and unnameable and irrepressible; the city whispered in his ears that he should look and see and know but he couldn't.

He didn't want to.

Because if he did, then he'd have to admit that the past two years had been a lie, that the basis of their friendship was a lie because there was no way that her child was his, there was no way she wouldn't have told him. There was no way he wouldn't have asked. And yet, a part of him knew. Had always known and he didn't like it. Whenever he'd looked upon her swollen belly, he'd had the indomitable urge to touch her, to calm her, to let her know that she was there. Whenever they'd been together, the city had been at peace as though knowing its' child was safe and loved and wanted.

He hated his new found connection with the city.

He wondered if the Ancients' had had that problem too.

"It does not mean you must leave for Earth."

He lowered his lids and felt the wind steal the air around him as he tried to suck in a calming breath. He licked his lips and looked across the horizon, to the sight that had awed him for nigh on six years. The sight that had calmed him, assured him, let him weep and he was saddened by the thought that he would never see it again, that in a few weeks time he'd glance upon the azure rays gracing the mirror like surface for the last time.

It had been hard, excruciatingly hard; the decision to leave Atlantis behind. But it was for the best. Not only for him but for the expedition. Ever since he'd been held captive by Neanderthal cannibals a year ago, he'd never really been the same. His leg ached when he walked on it for too long, his shoulder throbbed in pain from holding his weapon high for countless hours and his heart – well, he didn't really want to think about that. Plus, he was getting old. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. And there was no place for him in Atlantis; there was already a military leader that was doing a far better job than John would ever be able to do. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

Carter had been surprised, to say the least and had called upon General O'Neill – who'd embarked on a two week journey aboard the Daedalus, though John held no allusions as to the real reason why - to try and make John reconsider but his months of thought and arguments had won and he'd been granted leave from Atlantis. Carter'd even offered him a post as a civilian consult but he'd declined. It wasn't his post he was getting away from; it was the City itself.

Ever since Grae had been born, the city had not left him alone. He felt like he was in a really bad Sci-Fi movie, where an inanimate object spoke to him through his mind – it was either that or he was really going crazy. Rodney and Carter and Keller and Halcyon had poked and prodded at him since the day the city had responded to John's whimsical – okay, _erratic_ emotions six months ago but none had come up with conclusive evidence to prove the link that John seemed to have with the city.

He didn't know how he knew that it was real – he just _did._

There was something about the city that welcomed him home whenever he stepped through the 'Gate and he didn't know how he'd survive without that feeling – Atlantis was the only place he'd ever felt was home. And now more so than ever.

"We have not spoken in some time, John and now that we do, you find you have nothing to say." John raised a cynical eyebrow to the horizon. Oh, there were plenty of things he had to say but not plenty of things he could say. So he said nothing. "Then I will leave you to your solitude." She didn't touch him before she walked away, and his fingers didn't itch for her. His eyes turned to watch her retreating form but his feet did not follow. She didn't turn back and he didn't watch for long.

He sighed when he felt her entrance into the warm corridor and closed his eyes, letting the wind warm the chill that ached in his bones.

The city descended upon him, urging him in, pulling him in her footsteps. He resisted.

Sometimes, rationale told him, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.


	25. Complex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Season 4

"Apparently, you have a super hero complex."

John's eyebrow rose skywards at that. Coming from Rodney, that was quite a comment.

"Oh, really?" Rodney gave a nod of affirmation and John's other eyebrow joined its friend somewhere high on John's forehead. "And how is that?"

His eyes trained on the board in front of him again, studying Rodney's move. The guy was getting better, unfortunately. His eyebrows crept slowly down his forehead and inched together as concentration took over.

"You blame yourself for everything that happens here because, for some reason, you feel like you should be able to protect everyone."

John rewarded him with a derisive snort.

"What the hell are you talking about, Rodney?"

Rodney glanced up at him as though he'd asked him the most ridiculous question ever. John was absolutely not used to having these types of conversations with Rodney and it was more than a little disconcerting.

"Well, you blame yourself for everything. Ronon said that you're blaming yourself for what happened to Doran, even though there was nothing you could have done."

John gulped down the lump in his throat before rising what he hoped were incredulous eyes to the scientist.

"I do not blame myself for what happened to Doran." He moved his Bishop and picked up Rodney's Queen much to the annoyance of the Canadian. "There's no point."

Rodney made a non-committal grunt in the back of his throat before his face lit up and he moved his pawn in what he thought was a good move. John smirked behind his fingers that were rubbing his lip.

"You've been avoiding her ever since we came back from that planet where she..."

"I have not been avoiding her!"

And he hadn't been. It was just that he rarely saw her when he was around other people. He frowned at that. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen her for almost two weeks since they'd returned from their latest mission. He hoped that she was finally realising that he was right and that she needed time to grieve for her son. Something that Rodney said tugged at his mind and he frowned as he looked back at Rodney.

"You were talking to _Ronon_ about this?"

Rodney shook his head as he popped some popcorn into his mouth.

"No. He was talking to one of the nurses about it... Keller I think."

John rolled his eyes at Rodney's inattention to Keller's title but he fixed him with a curious stare, letting him know his interest was piqued.

"What were they saying?"

Rodney returned John's stare with an exasperated glare, while John simply raised his eyebrows.

"Didn't I _just_ tell you? What, should I just bring a tape recorder to our games now?"

John levelled him with a stare and Rodney shook his head, looking away to the chess board once more, sighing heavily in annoyance. John kept his own irritation at bay.

"Was that all they said?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly listening was I? There were plenty of other things for me to be worrying about, like getting my blood sugar level back up!"

John closed his eyes and shook his head, wondering not for the first time how he ever managed to put up with Rodney's snarky ways. In a way, it was disconcerting knowing that even Rodney had noticed something amiss with him and Teyla. They hadn't been right ever since... well, honestly, ever since he'd found out she was pregnant a year before. And then there was What Had Happened though John could hardly find fault in that; she'd needed it and he'd needed to help her. There was something else keeping her from him and he didn't like it; he didn't like not knowing what was going on in her life.

And what was interesting to John was that suddenly other people had taken an interest too. Even the President knew just how much of a grape vine there was wrapped around the city of Atlantis but John had never paid it any heed – until, that was, one of his best friends began partaking in conversations involving him and Teyla. It was rather... unusual.

"Where were you when they were talking about this?"

"What's big deal? Will you just hurry up and move already."

John pushed his thoughts away and concentrated on beating Rodney. In a few moves, he completed his task and dusted his hands off elaborately in front of the blustering Canadian.

"How... that's the _second_ time tonight you've done that... how... I thought I was..." He pursed his lips and creased his eyes. "You cheated, didn't you?"

John laughed and shook his head, moving to reset the board.

"No, Rodney, I didn't cheat." He smirked. "I'm just better than you."

Rodney grunted and John smiled again. He liked these little chess matches with Rodney; they kept his mind occupied, kept him from thinking about things that maybe he shouldn't. But there was always a moment when his concentration lapsed and his mind began to wander. He'd come to terms with the fact that there was absolutely nothing he could have done to stop Doran from dying; as he'd told Teyla numerous times, it was just one of those things. But he couldn't help but feel the least bit guilty at the emotional state he'd found her in on his return to Atlantis. He'd felt that he should have been there for her when she'd laid her son to rest.

But he hadn't been and he knew that there was nothing he could do about it now.

He'd vowed to them both he'd be her friend, her ally and that's what he needed to do. And blaming himself for everything wasn't helping matters between them. But that lead to thoughts as to _why_ she wasn't speaking to him, why he hadn't come across her in hallways or balconies or in the mess because he knew she was in Atlantis. He wondered if he'd done anything wrong, if he'd said something to anger her.

He shouldn't really bother about it so much anyway. But he did – because it was _Teyla._ She didn't hold a grudge. Not against him, anyway.

He sighed as he countered Rodney's move, submerging himself in strategy and endless forward thinking, blocking out thoughts on Teyla – he knew those would come later in the night.

As he let his mind wander for an instant he smiled.

Maybe, when it came to her, he _did_ have a superhero complex, after all.


	26. Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: season 4

He slipped into the quiet, darkened infirmary and breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed no one was around. In the far corner, tucked behind a small partition, John saw the faint light of a night light spilling onto the sterile infirmary floor. Many times he'd almost lost his nerve on his way here and as his heart rate increased again, he'd be damned if he'd actually lose his nerve now.

He raised a hand to his eyes and calmed his breathing as he pushed off from the wall. His body ached in a way that he'd never known before; his nerve ends tingled with anticipation as his feet carried him helplessly to the far end of the room; his leg, which he'd only recently had removed from plaster, throbbed in protest and his head shrieked in pain at the light piercing his eyes. He hadn't known how long he'd been holed up on his secluded balcony – he was only glad no one had come to find him – but a chill had settled deep into his bones urging him indoors. He'd been fully intent on making his way to his quarters when something tickled the back of his mind. Before he knew it, he'd reached the infirmary and was mentally cursing Emotion for dragging him down here.

But as he stepped into the dim light and his eyes landed on the tiny figure inside the incubator, all thought evacuated his mind. He stopped, just inside the partition and stared in awe at the tiny baby. His heart filled with something akin to pride, almost like love and for a moment he was motionless, thoughtless, empty. His eyes took in the miniscule fingers and arms and the tiny bald head, the thick black eyelashes and tiny parted lips, while his heart tried to take stock of the sudden flood of emotion waving through him.

In two strides, he was beside the plastic container, his fingers pressed against the wall. Despite his body's groan of protest, he lowered to his knees and stared, slack jawed at the tiny wonder inside the simple machine that was doing its' best to keep him healthy. He stroked his fingers over the form of the infant, no bigger than John's forearm and he wondered how it was possible that Teyla had been so big while the little man was so small. He felt something in the back of his throat, solid and immovable. A sound escaped past it and he chided himself. A vague mist appeared before his eyes and he lowered his lids, sucking his lips in between his teeth and propped his head against the plastic with a gentle thud.

John really didn't want to think about how close they'd come to losing the little guy. He tried not to think of the images that Keller's words had conjured up as she'd recapped how the umbilical cord had wrapped around his neck, how both he and his mother's blood pressure had plummeted minutes before she'd stepped through the 'Gate, how they'd had to cut open Teyla's womb open and extract the baby, how Teyla's heart had stopped.

Tears seeped through his lids and he squeezed them tighter, hoping to ward off the coming pain. He'd known something would go wrong because nothing – _nothing_ – ever went fine in the city of the Ancients. He opened his eyes slowly, a small sad smile warping his lips as he watched a tiny arm stretch, little fingers flexing towards him. He tapped his index finger against the partition and let out a watery laugh as the tiny, almost green eyes opened and stared at him through tiny slits. A silent sob passed his lips and he closed his eyes tightly, hoping to loosen the tightness in his chest.

He wasn't very good at emotion.

There was a whisper of sound behind him and he stilled, reigning in the urge to dim the lights further. There was another shuffle and a groan, followed by an almost silent "John?" He swallowed, almost didn't answer, almost stayed still in hopes that she would succumb to slumber again but he couldn't. Slowly, he turned and stared up at her from his crouched position, meeting her eyes with a helpless, tear soaked gaze. She tried to talk and he stood, painfully, moving towards her bed, shaking his head.

"Shh, it's okay." His hand reached for hers, his knuckles tracing over hers in a gentle, familiar caress. He felt something surge through him and he looked away, shifting his stare to the ceiling, warding off more tears. She didn't need to see him like this. He felt her hand shift beneath his and he stared down at their hands as her fingers twined through his, squeezing gently. He hitched a breath and it caught in his chest. He shook his head and looked away, towards the reason he'd snuck into the infirmary and sniffed. God, he needed to get a handle on his emotions. But he was just so glad... He turned back to her and raked in her appearance, noting the paleness of her face, the blackness of her eyes, the redness of her lids. His other hand reached out and stroked a sweaty lock from her forehead. She closed her eyes and he rested his fingers in her hair. "Are you..." he cleared his throat and flexed his fingers, hoping to reassure her of... _something_. "You're going to be all right," he managed and withdrew his hand.

She nodded tiredly, slowly and licked her lips. John looked about for something to drink but couldn't see anything. He didn't really want to leave.

"Grae."

He frowned at her.

"What?"

"That is his name." John turned to the baby and studied him, wondering why on Earth she'd chosen that name. If she was going to name him after a colour, he'd have thought something like red, rose – maybe even violet would have been appropriate... but Grae? He wasn't sure about that. "After Dorian." John turned back to her sharply, and stared into her open eyes. She smiled up at him before settling back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

Despite his over-whelming desire to leave after her confession he stayed for a few moments more until her breathing evened out. He turned to the incubator, his hand still trapped in Teyla's, and touched the edge of it again. He felt something strange in his chest, could feel something connecting him to the small baby held inside but he pushed it aside, not willing to dwell on it right then. He stayed that way, one hand in Teyla's, the other hovering over her son, for a few minutes before he felt it was inappropriate if he stayed any longer.

As he disentangled his fingers and took a step away, a sense of desolation hit him and he found he was unwilling to leave. But he knew he couldn't stay. Glancing around, he made sure the area was empty before kissing his fingers and placing them near to Grae's hand.

He felt her hand on his wrist before he heard her whisper his name. Pausing, he turned back to see her eyes open, her lips smiling at him evanescently.

"Stay."

He watched her for a moment as her eyes fluttered shut, wondering if she knew what she had asked of him. If he stayed, he wasn't sure he would be able to leave ever again. But if he went, he knew he would never be able to come back. He scanned her body, felt something tug and closed his eyes. It was wrong to stay. But it wasn't right to go.

He closed his eyes as he took a step back towards her and sank onto the chair that he'd ignored before, drawing the incubator closer to him.

And it was there he stayed, between Teyla and Grae, a silent vigil over their slumbering forms, until dawn tainted the dark horizon, seeping realisation into John's mind. And as he stood to leave, hours later when the city began to waken, he raised her hand to his lips, brushing them together before murmuring close to her ear;

"I'm really glad you're okay."

And as he moved to leave he felt the tug again.

He knew it was wrong to go, but now it wasn't right to stay.


	27. Awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episodes: Season 4

John Sheppard had a death wish.

Or at least that's what he was calling this momentary lapse in judgement. He hadn't started his day with a death wish, of this he was sure but as so often happened in his six years in Atlantis, his best laid plans oft' went awry.

It had started out simple enough with a quiet stroll through a friendly village on a friendly planet with his team for the last time. He'd been content – hell, maybe even excited – with the fact that even Teyla had come out for this, his last mission on Atlantis. Even Rodney had seemed pleased to be embarking on their mundane, diplomatic – if it could even be called that – mission. He'd been fine when the local alien men had started to take notice of the still somewhat new Conlin; she was military, and John knew that the drunken kiss she'd planted on him at the celebration night a few months back had been erased from her memory by the sheer level of alcohol she'd consumed and he wasn't really in the mood to remind her of it. He'd also been fine – if somewhat a little grossed out – when really, really hot alien females starting making advances on his two male companions.

What had irked him - though was not the reason for his death wish - was the distinct level of inattention he was receiving. He'd joked with Teyla about it – he didn't see the point in ruining his last mission because of her misconstrued idea that he'd done something wrong – and she'd replied that she wasn't receiving particular attention either. Although she didn't seem as bothered by it as he was.

He'd even been death wish free when he'd plopped down at the dinner table and was faced with two of the most disconcerting things he'd ever seen in his life. One was Rodney. The other, Ronon. He'd never seen either of them – well, except that one time with Rodney – flirt. And he didn't like it. The food was even better than it had looked and he'd been readily accepting of the offer of seconds.

It wasn't even when a rather large, rather attractive man approached Teyla and attempting to 'gain her affection' that his death wish arrived. No. This he could handle; he'd seen it many times and he'd seen the many times she'd brushed their advances off, telling them of her marriage to another man. This time was no different and Colossus – as John had taken to calling him – had shed a lingering stare in John's direction before sauntering off to another table and – no doubt – another hapless female.

It could have been when said hapless female had approached Teyla and demanded a fight to the death for the affections of Colossus but it wasn't. Even still, it wasn't when Teyla had repeatedly turned down the offer – at which John had smiled thankfully – and tried to usher the woman away – he was also thankful Teyla was not above some subtle threats about how effectively she could kick aforementioned Hapless Female's ass.

His plans probably started to go awry when Hapless Female called Teyla a coward. It was when Teyla's pride hadn't been able to stand it anymore and she'd stood angrily, agreeing to take part in a winning of the affections of Colossus' in death match ass kicking festival that John had sensed a downturn on his good day. Hid death wish didn't even come in to play as he tried to talk her out of her idiotic actions – he wasn't above telling her pride how stupid its' actions were – or even when she'd spun on him with a death glare in her eyes, slowly stripping down to her black tank top.

He'd stood by the side lines, bartering for the surrender of one of them without death to the other with the leader of the village but he was having none of it and, if John's spidey-senses were as in tune as he thought they were, he could have sworn the old git was enjoying the show. He could barely bring himself to watch the vicious fight and he'd almost jumped into the 'arena' and tossed Teyla over his shoulder and made for the Stargate when Hapless Female whipped a knife from somewhere in her barely-there attire. He hadn't even realised he'd tossed Teyla his own knife until he reached down to do just that.

He had barely been able to contain his yell of joy when Teyla had gotten the upper hand and pushed her opponent to the floor, knee at her back, knife at her throat. He'd almost had a heart attack when he thought Teyla wasn't going to stop and actually drag the knife across Hapless Female's neck. It wasn't even as bad a day as it was now when he'd stormed ahead of the quartet, trying to calm his erratic breathing as his anger at what Teyla had just done swamped him.

No.

His death wish didn't come in to play until they'd made it safely back to the welcoming arms of Atlantis. In fact, if he was to be accurate, it wasn't until they'd made it to the briefing room and Carter had asked what the hell had gone wrong that John felt the first inklings of a death wish. He hadn't been able to hold back the flow of his anger as he recapped the events to Carter. He hadn't been able to stop himself from retaliating hotly when Teyla had interrupted and they'd ended up in a shouting match with one another. It wasn't even as his arms flailed about his head, or when he pointed at Teyla, or even when he accused her of being a selfish idiot.

No.

It was, in fact, about two seconds after that that John Sheppard realised he'd somehow developed a death wish. It was about two seconds after chewing Teyla out in front of Carter, Ronon, Conlin, McKay and Kanan that he found out kissing Teyla was as enjoyable as it had been the first, second and third time it had happened. It was about thirty seconds after _that_ that he pulled back from her and saw Kanan being held back by the unyielding arms of Ronon as Teyla stared at him with wide eyed astonishment that he realised he had a death wish.

And boy did he not care because, ridiculously, inconceivably – he wanted to do it again.

He'd only managed to raise his eyes to hers for a few seconds before he felt something connect with his jaw and he was sprawled across the floor, looking up at Kanan who'd somehow freed himself from Ronon's unfreeing arms. Before John had been able to mount any form of defence, the Athosian was gone and John was left with his team staring down at him incredulously.

He'd only answered them with an innocent "what?" before hauling himself – to which he thanked his team mates sarcastically – to his feet and making his way to the infirmary - because he was sure he heard something crack.

It was only when he was lying on a bed with an ice pack pressed against his face that he realised maybe his day wasn't so awry at all. Because, as he thought back on those thirty seconds of death wish madness, he realised something.

Teyla had kissed him back.


	28. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> episodes: season 4, au season 5

In the life of John Sheppard, plans never did run particularly smoothly.

It had been his intention when he'd woken up that morning to share a quiet breakfast with the members of his team before embarking on a training session, attend some meetings with Carter and Caldwell and then perhaps return to his room to pack before heading out on his team's latest mission.

But as it happened, he'd awoken with the first dipping of the moon and when he'd made his way to the mess hall some sleepless hours later, his team was decidedly absent – in fact it seemed like almost all of the base was absent at this early hour. When he'd filled his plate, he'd been baffled by his choice of seat and he knew that the length of time he stood staring at the many empty tables was verging on the ridiculous when one of the doors swished open and in trotted a few scientists he recognised from piloting to the main land back on the old planet.

He eventually chose a seat just outside the balcony doors and picked at his food. There was a time when John Sheppard revelled in the quiet moments on Atlantis, when he'd actually have time to sit and think and ponder – to _breathe_. But the increased frequency of those moments had almost diluted their effects and, although he saw his team – his _friends_ – every day, he missed them when they weren't around. He'd long since attributed that notion to the fact that soon – very soon, in fact – he'd be leaving Atlantis soon and he would see none of them for a very long time. He'd always enjoyed his banter with Rodney but now he found he intentionally riled the scientist up just so they could immerse themselves in Earthly jokes and childish name calling. He never particularly enjoyed being beaten up but found himself in the gym with Ronon, hopping around on one leg with a flag tucked into his waistband with increased regularity. He even found himself sitting around the recreation room with Conlin watching re-re-re-runs of the DVD's that circulated the halls of Atlantis.

He tried to shake off his maudlin mood, physically shrugging his shoulders and mentally shaking his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his bread against the edge of his tray to a song he thought he'd long ago forgotten. The pink dawn had only really begun to tint the horizon as John sat there, the almost warm breeze ruffling the black shirt he wore, tickling the hair on his head into an intricate dance that he'd long ago given up trying to tame. Breathing deeply, he let the fresh unpolluted air fill his lungs and rest there for a few long seconds before exhaling slowly. He could feel the city's calm creep through his veins and he relaxed into his chair.

There were a lot of things John realised he was going to miss; there certainly weren't sunrises or sunsets on Earth quite like the ones that he'd experienced on Atlantis. There was a certain reassurance in knowing that he was protected by a city that responded to his every whim. There was a certain security in having his friends around that John knew he was going to miss, but would come to terms with in time. As he licked his lips and tasted the salty residue, John realised he was going to have to buy a house near the sea.

No, scratch that, a _boat_ on the sea

He knew that nothing would ever compare to the life he'd lead for the past six years. There were things so inexplicable that he was curious as to why he – and especially Rodney – hadn't lost his mind over the years. He supposed it had something to do with the bond that had formed between the group, knowing that the others survived kept them surviving. There were many things that John did when he felt like he might go a little crazy, from pounding down the empty halls of the farthest piers, to taking a Jumper out in the early azure mornings and chasing the molten gold that erupted on the horizon before his eyes.

He tugged his eyes away from the glorious vision before him and he almost smiled. He'd long ago resigned himself to the fact that there were certain things he felt in regards to Teyla Emmagan – hell, his actions over the past two years had been based solely on being those certain – but there was something about seeing her carrying her second child, Grae (named after, John smiled, his favourite book Dorian Gray – in fact, both her children had been named for him) that reinforced certain feelings that made him feel as though he was simultaneously being ripped apart from the inside out but so much like home that the earlier pain dulled in comparison.

He'd be honest and admit that things between himself and Teyla hadn't been as good as they had once been since Grae was born. There wasn't any one thing he could attribute blame to and he hated that, he hated that they had somehow simply drifted apart. He had at first attributed it to the fact that there was an incessant niggling in the back of his mind every time he was with her or Grae but he'd been willing to overcome that for her, if she needed him to. It was with bitter resentment that he'd come to realise that she didn't need him anymore, if she ever had and had been added to the ever growing list of reasons he'd opted to return to Earth.

Number one being his body's insistent reminder that he was, in fact, a mere mortal. And he was getting old.

He was on his feet and making his way through the mess hall before his brain had even registered that his body was moving. His brain also took a few moments to catch up to the fact that his hands had taken the squirming infant from Teyla's grateful – if not a little surprised – arms. He didn't say anything as he smiled at her in a way that wasn't quite uncomfortable. She caught his eyes for a moment before John looked away to the jiggling bundle in his arms. His smile grew when he saw the green eyes stare up at him happily, a gurgle of laughter passing tiny lips as minute fingers gripped onto John's dog tags. He still didn't know how the little guy managed to get the damn things out from under his shirt – he remembered a time not so many weeks ago where he'd been cradling Grae to his chest only to look down and find him munching happily on the solid metal tags. He'd almost had a fit and dropped him to the ground in his haste to extract the chain from between his fragile gums.

He continued to stand playing with the baby, marvelling at how small he still was as he waited for Teyla to load up her own tray. They didn't say anything as they made their way out to the balcony, and John was forced to adjust Grae's weight in his arms as he continued to squirm.

"He's full of beans today, isn't he?" He said to Teyla as he propped Grae up on his lap, tickling the plump cheek with one hand while the other steadied him.

"Yes, he is." She nodded in agreement.

When John actually looked at her, he realised how tired she really looked. Kanan had been off world on a trading come harvesting mission with a few members of the Athosians for over a week and John felt a little remorseful for forgetting that fact. Her eyes were puffy and dark, her skin pale. He resisted the urge to tell her to return to her room for a few hours sleep while he looked after Grae. He turned his attention back to Grae and pulled some faces, eliciting a few giggles from him before he started to squirm again. John leaned back in his chair and tucked the child into his chest, cradling him with one arm, the other hand resting flat against his against his back, moving in soothing circles around his back.

"Have you been a good boy?" John asked as he angled his head down to look at the startling hazel eyes staring back at him and he felt that darn tug again. He pushed it aside, though, as Grae grabbed onto his chains again and he raised an eyebrow at him comically. "I'm sure you've had enough to eat this morning, haven't you?" He glanced to Teyla who nodded in confirmation as she continued to spoon oatmeal into her mouth, a smile forming around her spoon. "Yes, you have. Why are you so grumpy today, mister? Hmm?" A breeze wafted past John and he shivered. He jerked his head in Teyla's direction, startled. "It's cold out here, isn't it? Maybe we should go inside?"

She smiled but shook her head.

"It is fine. I believe it is much warmer out here than it is inside."

John frowned, unconvinced.

"Even still..." He stood, readjusting Grae's weight again and plucked his jacket from the back of his chair and fitted it expertly around Grae's tiny body. When he looked back to Teyla, he saw the mildly surprised expression on her face and he suddenly felt sheepish. "What?" He asked as he sat back down, shrugging, his cheeks tingling with something reminiscent of a blush. She simply shook her head and smiled, before looking back to her food. "Well, just don't want him to get cold, do we?" He glanced to Grae who'd gripped onto his index finger, which John promptly shook, and smiled again. "No we don't, do we little guy?" Grae made a gurgling noise which John took to mean no.

The seconds wove into minutes and John embraced the silence. Even Grae was breathing evenly and had stopped squirming in John's arms. He picked at a few of the items on his plate, careful to avoid crumbs landing on Grae's now still head. These quiet moments he'd come to abhor didn't seem so bad, all of a sudden and John was surprised. The last time he'd been alone with Teyla things had been awkward and horrible and he'd convinced himself that they always would be now. But sitting there, on the quiet balcony watching the sunrise, sharing this moment, John felt anything but uncomfortable. In fact, if anything, he felt a little too comfortable.

And yet he daren't disrupt it.

He hadn't realised he'd closed his eyes until he opened them again and found Teyla's smiling eyes watching him and her son. He smiled in return, a sudden shyness taking over him. He glanced down and saw that Grae was sound asleep, his head resting on John's chest, while John's hand rested on his back, moving up and down with the tiny breaths.

"He looks very much like his father."

John studied the face but all he saw there was Teyla. He had Teyla's nose and general features, but his hair was darker and more unruly, his eyes a few shades lighter than Teyla's. He smiled quietly at Teyla and shook his head.

"I think he looks like you." He hadn't intended to whisper but it seemed his throat had deemed it appropriate.

"Perhaps." Teyla studied them for a moment and John began to feel uncomfortable under her scrutinising gaze. She must have sensed his discomfort because she glanced down to her now empty plate and sighed. "He seems to have taken to you," she murmured as she glanced back up, her fingers rising to tuck the jacket closer around his body and John smiled. She'd taken to motherhood like a duck to water.

Then what she said hit him and he couldn't help the smile that stole across his lips.

"Yeah." It wasn't the first time the little guy had fallen asleep in John's arms and John hoped it wasn't the last. He frowned slightly, at that thought; he had always thought he never saw much of Grae or Teyla but there were many incidents where he'd been in possession of the child – certainly enough for him to have created a bond with him.

"I remember my grandma used to tell us my grandfather could send us to sleep, just by laying us on his chest." Clearly, his brain had disengaged from his mouth again but this time, John didn't mind. "Sent us right off, like this little guy."

Teyla smiled contentedly and John wished he could see that smile more often. He shook the thought away and glanced back to the horizon.

"He must find your heartbeat restful." John smiled and nodded, although he could feel himself detaching from the moment. Things were getting far too close for his own comfort. He jerked slightly when he felt a brush against his fingers as Teyla's hand moved to Grae's head, smoothing the flicks in his hair. He could see the indecision on her eyes as he searched her face and he felt apprehension building in his chest. The moment seemed to drag on as she decided her next move and John both dreaded and awaited her choice. "It is very soothing." Her eyes rose to meet his and John was suddenly transported back to another time, another place where she had known exactly just how soothing his heart beat was. It seemed so long ago now.

He was entranced by the flicker in her eyes, the warm glow that radiated from her mellow features and he felt pleasant waves meander through his veins. Her fingers stilled on Grae's head and John knew they were staring. But he really didn't care. Something inside of him tugged and he felt words, _those_ indomitable words rise up his throat, and dance across his tongue.

They never made it out though, as their happy parade was interrupted by the rain that was Rodney, Ronon and Conlin. It took a moment for their voices to penetrate the haze that surrounded them and he could feel the uncomfortable shift and he glanced down while her fingers quickly resumed stroking Grae's head.

It was when Ronon stared at him with an eyebrow raised in curious expectation that he felt something else he'd miss.

Deliberate and sure, delicate and soft, the stroke of her thumb over the back of his hand.

Yes, he realised, that was it; what he'd miss the most. Not the sunsets, or sunrise, or the banter or the constant wonder of the city.

No.

It was that.

The luxury of Teyla's touch.


	29. You

"John?"

He stilled in his bed, his sleepy brain taking a few seconds to catch up to the fact that there was someone in his room speaking to him. He sat straight up in bed and squinted into the darkness, his bleary eyes finding the task difficult. He fought off the yawn as he stretched across the bed to where his hockey stick lay; stopping only when the voice registered in his brain. He stilled once again, the blood running cold in his veins.

He turned slowly towards where the voice had come from, just inside the door and he raised the lights to a little more than off.

"Teyla." His voice was groggy and he really needed a drink.

He hadn't seen Teyla since his spectacle in the briefing room a few days before and his hand involuntarily rose to his jaw, wincing again at the blow that was landed there. In truth, there was two ways he imagined the rest of his last week in Atlantis would play out – one would be with her approaching him straight away and imparted a blow much similar to that which her husband had; the second was to never see her again. He hadn't expected this; her showing up at his room at god knows what time sans a fist ready to punch him to the floor.

He slid out of bed and stood before her, his hands twisting around themselves as she stood staring at him. She didn't say anything as she scrutinized him and he didn't shuffle under the weight of her gaze. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his suddenly hammering heart. He flicked his gaze over her shoulder as he frowned at the door she'd entered through – he was pretty sure he'd locked it before falling asleep but he may well have forgotten; his mind was on many other things.

"You are a fool."

There was a lightness to her tone that he hadn't expected and he almost laughed as the tension fled his body.

"Yeah," he muttered as he glanced down, his hand rising to rub at his neck subconsciously. "About that... Teyla... I..." He stopped when he saw her shake her head. "What?"

She said nothing as she took a step towards him, her hands fluttering in front of her body. He eyed her warily as she stepped closer to him again, her eyes switching between his stomach and his eyes. As she drew ever closer to him, a beam of milky light struck her features and she was illuminated in a diaphanous glow that stole John's breath. Eyes that he'd studied for years sparkled in a way he'd never seen, her skin radiated a warmth that he wanted to feel. But he didn't, he kept his hands at bay as he studied her studying him. There was a freshness, a newness to her that he couldn't quite grasp.

"I have known for some time that women are the folly of men." John frowned as she ducked her head, her fingers twisting around her ring finger and he felt his heart still. He glanced up to her eyes and found her staring back at her. "Kanan has known for some time and for that, he is less of a fool than you." Her words stung and John blinked in momentary confusion. Kanan was never mentioned in their quiet time together, alone and he found her breaking those unspoken rules almost like blasphemy.

"I don't..."

"You would not." He raised an eyebrow but the irritation he felt seeding in his guy never quite blossomed. "It was never my intention to deceive. I love Kanan." John swallowed and looked down from her piercing gaze. "I was content with him."

"Then why are you here?" He interrupted as his irritation flourished.

"That is a question we should have asked some years ago, John." He frowned again. "What have we been doing for these past years?"

"What do you mean?" Suddenly, he felt very much like he was losing something.

She laughed and shook her head, taking a step back from him.

"While I was content..." She closed her eyes and John was sure he heard a catch in her voice. "I still found myself here, with you." She caught his eyes again and he fought so very hard not to draw them from her and run from the room.

He was so very unprepared for this conversation. He had never expected it. The things she was referring to were things that he'd never allowed himself to label because that gave them meaning outside of what they were – it made them seem wrong and he had long since resided in the knowledge that their time together was very right. They had never actually done anything wrong, not even the night they had spent together in his bed. He had rationalised it to the confines of their friendship, even though his heart had protested loudly.

"Teyla..." He tried to stop her. He didn't want her to ruin those moments; he didn't want her to tell him that they didn't mean the same to her as they did to him because he didn't think he could handle that.

"And these... these things have consequences."

John felt his breath catch in his chest and he stared at her.

"Grae."

"You know."

He nodded, although he knew it wasn't a question. He felt something rush through him and he stumbled slightly as his knees gave way. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed and covered his face with his hands.

"How long have you known?"

He shrugged and shook his head, digging his fingers into his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears that were welling there.

"I think... subconsciously I always have." He looked at her through his parted fingers and saw her nod, her eyes glistening. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head vehemently.

"I am not." He nodded and turned his head away from her as she shuffled, her hands fluttering to her eyebrow, to her hair. He scraped a hand through his own hair and sniffed, trying to formulate words but nothing came. "Grae... our child..." John felt a jolt shoot through his body at that and a droplet of salty liquid escaped over the brim of his lid. He didn't wipe it away. "At least something good has come from our foolishness."

He choked on the words that threatened to escape and he turned his eyes back to her form to see her leaning against the chest of drawers next to his bed, the silver rays highlighting the tears on her face.

"What...?"

She turned her head in his direction and he shifted his body so he was facing her, his knee drawn up on the bed.

"You are leaving tomorrow."

He nodded and looked away as more tears gathered. And that was it right there. He _was_ leaving and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd been regretting his decision ever since the morning he spent out on the balcony with Teyla and Grae, ever since Ronon had taken him aside and thoroughly whipped his ass and told him he was an idiot. He hadn't wanted to admit that what Ronon had said was right at the time but now he knew it was. He'd always known that Grae was his and yet, he was still willing to up and leave. He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a small mocking laugh as he did so.

"Yeah," he whispered airily, with more than a hint of self-depreciation.

"Kanan knows."

It didn't come as much of a surprise to him. It seemed that Rodney was the only one oblivious to the fact that Kanan was not the father. Now that John thought about it, even Carter had given him a few knowing looks whenever he'd been in possession of Grae. He really _was_ an idiot.

"Teyla... I'm sorry."

"You did not make me doing anything I did not wish to." He nodded but it did little to placate his raging guilt. "Our friendship has always been special, John, regardless of my situation." He nodded but did not meet her eyes.

He pushed himself from the bed almost violently and strode back and forth, his hands never resting in one place for too long.

"You know, when I was with Nancy." He saw her wince at that and there was a part of him that was secretly glad of her jealousy. "I felt like I was..." he faltered in his step and his words and when he turned to her, he saw clearly the grief scorched in her eyes. "I felt like I was betraying you."

He stared at her, his eyes never blinking as he watched her process what he'd said. He felt his throat clog up when she took a step towards him.

"I wish one last thing from you before you leave."

His chest tightened and he found that he couldn't speak. His eyes stung with the unshed tears there and his hands burned to touch her. He nodded instead and tried to suck in a calming breath.

"Remind me of your touch."

There was a sob and he didn't know which one of them it came from. Instantaneously he reached out to her, his finger drifting down her arm, over the back of her hand right down to the tip of her finger. She watched the movement with cloudy eyes, her lip tucked neatly between her two teeth. He clasped her fingers between his and when she turned her eyes back to his, he tugged her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her petite frame.

His hands slid down her back in a soothing gesture and he felt her shiver under his gentle touch. She pulled back slightly, her eyes lowered and he felt it, that damn irrepressible tug and this time he didn't push it away. He let it envelope him and he lowered his head, nudging her head with his nose until she looked up. He could see the fear, the pain, the longing in her eyes before he closed his own and pressed his lips to hers. She didn't hesitate in her response and her arms wound their way around his body.

He didn't know how it happened but he found her beneath him on his bed, his hands sliding across skin slick with sweat, through hair matted from movement. He gasped, spent as he lay beside her, their chests rising and falling in perfect tandem. Bittersweet tears trickled to their hairlines and they didn't turn to one another for some time.

Eventually, as the twilight faded to dawn and the suns rose from their slumber, he wrapped his arms around her body as she turned in to him, more tears falling across his bare chest. He traced his finger across her back, kissed her temple, stroked her hair until the gentle rhythm of her breathing evened out. He fought against the sob in his throat, his body lurching with the effort until eventually he let the tears fall.

For John, this moment would never fade. With the perfect azure sunrise sparkling against clear waters, splintering through his window across the sleeping form of the woman he had told himself he would never hurt, John Sheppard didn't know how he was going to be able to leave.

She shuffled and groaned slightly as though his thoughts were intruding on her perfect slumber.

He laid a placating kiss to her temple. He felt those indomitable words form in his throat but this time, he didn't try to repress them.

"I love you."

He closed his eyes and drifted off, pained by the knowledge that in a few hours he'd be leaving.


	30. Clarity

There were many things that John didn't understand. They ranged from theoretical astrophysics, to the female psyche. But the thing that he didn't understand most of all was himself. Only hours before, he'd awoken in bed with the beautiful Atlantis sun blazing into his room, alighting it in a mirage of colours he'd never been able to imagine six years before. He'd fully expected to be alone when he woke because, no matter what happened between them, he always did. But as he rose to consciousness, he felt the arms about his waist, the supple flesh beneath his fingers. He'd smiled as he'd rolled over her when she'd joined him in wakefulness. She'd smiled as he'd lowered his lips to hers, as his hands lingered on her body, urging her to him, teasing her tender flesh with nimble fingers as she'd driven him wild with her own. There had been no professions of love or remorse as they'd moved together in untainted harmony, a dance that had become so familiar to them even with their lack of practice.

She hadn't asked him to stay and he hadn't offered to.

Instead they'd lain beside one another speaking of things irrelevant – from Lorne's new hair cut, to Rodney's latest experiments. There was no mention of Grae, or John's commitment to him. There was no talk of Kanan, or what John would do once he returned to Earth. They'd teased one another as they'd showered – some a little more than others -, as they'd tried to dress themselves without succumbing to the residual desires that still coursed through them.

She hadn't been there to see him off and he understood.

But as he sat on the edge of his bed in his newly furnished apartment, he couldn't quite comprehend the events of that day. When he'd arrived at Stargate Command, he'd promptly been herded into the briefing room for meeting after endless meeting with General Landry, the IOA and Homeland Security. He'd been briefed and de-briefed so many times that he felt like he wanted to rip his ears off and leave them in the room so that the rest of his body could go home and rest. And so it was only after he'd managed to leave the SGC, find his way to the apartment that Nancy had secured for him that his mind could think about the events of the previous night.

He really hadn't expected her to show up in his room, let alone ask him to make love to her. He had been ready to never see her again so her appearing in his room was somewhat of a miracle. He groaned as he flopped onto his back. There were so many things that he needed to sift through but all he could think about what the fact that she'd let him leave. He supposed that it wasn't her fault; he'd made the decision too many months ago for it to be changed on the day he left. And, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he knew that the both of them needed time away from the other to try and process all that had happened.

In the space of a day, she'd lost her husband and the father of her child because of John's stupidity and he felt more than a little remorseful for that. John groaned and swiped his hand over his face; he had a child. A child that he'd just left. If it was humanly possible he'd quite happily kick his own backside. He was the most prolific ass in two galaxies. The woman he had loved for nigh on five years had come to him the night before he was due to leave and, although she hadn't asked him to stay, he knew that that is what she had intended. She hadn't tried to influence him by professing love that John was pretty sure she felt for him. Even her admission that Grae was his wasn't an attempt to blackmail him into staying; she had trusted that he would do the right thing.

And he hadn't.

God, he really was an idiot. There were so many reasons that leaving was wrong; even the reasons he'd used to justify leaving seemed ridiculous to him now. He wondered if she would ever forgive him if he did somehow make it back to Atlantis; if the roles were reversed, he didn't think he'd be able to. He didn't think he'd be able to forgive himself. Damn, he hated Ronon right that moment. If the Satedan hadn't taken him aside and had that talk with him, he wouldn't be in this mess; he wouldn't have kissed Teyla in front of her husband and she'd still be happily married back on Atlantis and he'd still be living in blissful, ignorant denial. But things didn't often turn out to well for him and he really should have expected something ludicrously complicated like this before he left; it was only natural.

He sighed and moved to the window, disheartened by the view of tarmac and buildings. Already he missed the watery purity of Atlantis, the knowledge that all he had to do was wander the halls and he'd bump into someone who was glad to see him. The rain glistened in the orange street lamps that he knew he'd have to once again become accustomed to streaming in his window at night, as opposed to endless blackness. These were all things he really wished he'd considered before implementing his stupid ass plan. He dropped his head onto the cool window and watched the rivulets of water streaming down the pane of glass and frowned.

He was an idiot.

Before he'd really thought about it, he'd tackled some of the boxes on the floor, found his running gear and was running down the soaked streets, splashing in water that had gathered in potholes, dodging people and traffic and dog poo. The run wasn't nearly as therapeutic as he'd come to anticipate on Atlantis. And his leg hurt. A lot. As he climbed the stairs to his first floor apartment, he missed the ability to wander the halls to the infirmary and have the on base physiotherapist have a look at his leg.

He really had to stop complaining, he was even starting to annoy himself.

As he moved across the hallway – leaving behind a slick wet trail – he didn't notice the person standing just inside his living room door. He spun around to face the intruder when he felt their breath on his arm and his hand automatically went to his leg where his side arm was. Coming up empty, he stared at Nancy with a confused frown.

"How did you get in here?" She held up the spare key and he nodded. "Ah. What are you doing here?" He asked as he moved around her into the lounge, before changing his mind and wandering to the bathroom.

"I just came by to see how you were settling in," she replied as she followed him down the hall way. "You're limping."

He paused slightly and pursed his lips. He hated when people noticed the limp he acquired sometimes when his body weight seemed to heavy for his leg; it was a reminder of what had almost happened to him and that he had become a liability to his off world team.

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate any further but he could see Nancy's questioning frown. He sighed and rolled his eyes, suddenly irritated by her presence; he really just wanted to be alone. "I broke it on a mission – running aggravates it."

"I see." She nodded and propped herself on the toilet seat when he pulled a towel from the closet. "You look tired, John."

He smirked at her as he rubbed the towel across the back of his hair.

"I am tired, Nancy." She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the cistern. "I've had a long day."

"That's not what I meant."

He sighed and looked away from her as he peeled his soaked fleece over his head, followed by his sopping tee.

"I know."

He caught his reflection and he looked away. He did look tired – old, even. The past three years had taken their toll on him, marring him with wrinkles and grey hair he didn't want to see. His eyes were sunken and dark, his skin blotchy and red from the wind and the rain outside. He really needed a warm bath. He sank against the edge of the tub and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes staring at a spot on the wall just beside Nancy's head.

"Are you really back for good this time?" He nodded mutely and blinked slowly. He really was. "I can't believe it." He shrugged and lifted the towel to his chest, rubbing idly at the water droplets there. "Oh my God." She was standing before him in an instant and John almost toppled over the bath tub as he pulled back in surprise. Her fingers ushered his hands from his body and she traced the ugly pink scar on his side, her eyes wide. "What happened to you?"

"Someone tried to eat me," he murmured as he watched her fingers slide delicately across his skin. He shivered at her touch and she caught his eye. Her fingers stilled on his body and he stared at her, his mind blank except for the feeling of her skin on his.

"Derek and I never got married, did you know that?"

He shook his head dumbly and watched as she lowered her lids, her finger resuming their dance across his skin, eliciting fire with her touch. He didn't respond to her touch but inside his mind was screaming. When she did, he let her kiss him for a few seconds, his mind drawing blanks before he placed his hands on her hips and pushed her from him slightly, shaking his head slowly.

"I can't."

She nodded and took a step back, embarrassment colouring her features. He reached out to her, and gripped her elbows in his hands but she shook her head and pursed her lips.

"I can't believe I let you do this to me, John." He frowned. "I loved Derek. And yet, I still found myself waiting for you to come back to me." John felt a strange sense of déjà vu, only this time he knew the events that would follow would be different. "God," she muttered as she rubbed her face with a hand and let out a low laugh. "You're an idiot, John. A god damn idiot."

He nodded in response to that; he didn't need anyone to tell him that universal truth.

"I know."

She shook her head and walked back and forth in front of him. She stared at him, her eyes taking in his features and John looked away from her scrutinising gaze.

"What has she done to you?"

John frowned and looked back at her, his lips twisted in a confused smirk.

"Who?"

She laughed but John didn't enjoy the sound.

"Teyla." He felt the word like a punch to his gut and he winced as he pushed himself from the bath tub. "You're different since you met her." John frowned again. "When John Sheppard loved me, he pursued me. He came after me and made sure that I knew he was there. The John Sheppard that she has is someone completely different; you're scared of her. You're scared that if you tell her how you feel, she'll reject you."

He laughed mirthlessly and shook his head.

"You have no idea what it's like. You don't know her."

"I know her enough to know that she was waiting for you; even when she was carrying another man's child." John stilled, his hands shaking by his sides. "You were just too blind to see it." She looked at him in disgust and shook her head. "And now it's too late."

He sank to the edge of the tub again, his fists gripping the sides, his knuckles white with the pressure. He breathed shallowly, trying to contain the rage that was trundling through him. He knew she was right but she had no right to be. She didn't know him anymore; she didn't know what he'd been through. But she _was_ right. It _was_ too late.

"Go." He saw her body sag as frown crossed her brow but she didn't move. He lurched to his feet, ignoring the throbbing in his leg. "I said _go!"_

"I want to help you!" She shouted back at him, her own anger clear in her eyes.

"I don't need your help!"

They one another off for a few moments before she pivoted on her heel and stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the front door on her way out. He stood there for a few moments in the pure halogen light before he sank to the floor in a flood of remorseful tears. His body shuddered with the ferocity of his wracking sobs, his fist throbbed from pounding the side of the tub and his heart ached with the weight of his knowledge.

And as he lay there cold and wet and alone, John Sheppard knew he had to make this right.


	31. Eloquence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: And so it is with a sad heart and a fond wave that I bid farewell to this, the last of Indomitable. It has been a pleasure to have you as my readers, and I have loved all of your reviews. I hope this is the resolution you were looking for.

The words that were travelling through John Sheppard's mind needed a certain kind of eloquence that, at that moment, he did not possess. The shrubbery clung to his trousers, his fingers, his boots – his _hair._ He'd given up trying to brush it off after the first mile and a half. The rain had ceased its cascading drizzle long after he was soaked. The ground was muddy and it clung to his boots like clay, weighing him down.

Damn, he wasn't prepared for this.

He'd started the journey thinking of the conversations that could come to pass by the end of it, then he'd conversed with himself as to the sanity of this adventure. His conversation had quickly dwindled to a monologue of short sentences that generally consisted of more than one profanity as he realised the state of the ground beneath him. He cursed everything from the hot humid air, to the slick sweat running down his forehead.

Since when had Athosia turned into a rainforest, he wondered as he swatted at the flies and mosquito like bugs that swarmed around his head. He ran a futile hand over his face and pressed on, deciding not to stop at the base of any of the cosy looking trees for a break. He'd been gone for two weeks, he couldn't wait any longer.

He trudged through the infertile soil, uphill, for a few more minutes before he came to the clearing where the Athosian settlement had been. His internal cynic stressed the word 'had', as he looked around the empty space. There was debris littered around that let him know that he hadn't taken a wrong turn like he'd thought. He sighed, his shoulders sagging as a river of muddy water rushed over his feet, soaking him even more.

Surely someone could have told him they'd moved the settlement.

He took a few steps and his feet sank into the ground, covering his boots as sopping mud seeped over the rim of his boots.

"Ah, _fuck_!" He half yelled as he pulled himself out of the ground, one foot at a time only for it to disappear upon reaching ground again. He stopped, sighed and closed his eyes as the rain started once more in earnest. He raised his face to the sky and let the warm droplets wash away the salty residue on his forehead and he reached for the flask on his hip, taking a swig of the tepid water. "Great," he murmured as he hooked it back on. He petulantly folded his arms across his chest and almost refused to move. A bolt of white hot electricity lit the sky and he groaned loudly as he dug his fingers into his eyes. "Okay," he grumbled as he sighed resolutely. "I guess I deserve this..."

The dampness seeped into his bones and the old fractures in his legs throbbed coldly with every step he took. His head began to pound with the heat and the rumbling thunder overhead but as he caught a peak of the tents of the Athosian settlement over the ridge, he knew he would do it all again if it meant he got to set things right with Teyla. Two weeks ago, he'd left her and their child on some ill-thought-out return to Earth and had spent every day since formulating how he'd campaign for his return.

Luckily, he knew a few people here and there and he'd been granted a return to Atlantis, on the basis that he 'get the girl'.

On his return to Atlantis – somehow kept secret from Rodney and Ronon – he'd been greeted with open arms, then a swift kick up the ass – literally – from Ronon before being informed that Teyla had returned to be with her people, despite the dissolution of her marriage to Kanan. _At least he was there for her._

Which is how he found himself on the Pegasus version of the Amazon Rainforest, hoping against all hope that somehow, Teyla would forgive his stupidity. Unlikely, but he knew it deserved a chance.

The settlement quieted as he sauntered in looking a little worse for wear. The tents they were using to shelter themselves from the rain adorned both sides of a huge bonfire (also under a huge tent) and the occupants parted as he wandered through. Some looked upon him with disdain, others with malice and John tried his best to not turn and run in the opposite direction. He had a plan and he was damn well going to follow it out.

"Colonel Sheppard."

He froze at the voice and turned slowly in the direction of the orator, his lips twisting in a wince of their own accord.

"Kanan." He nodded to the other man who stood between two burly men. Suddenly, John felt like a teenager trying to gain access to the local nightclub. "And it's just Sheppard."

Kanan nodded.

"I had heard of your intended retirement from your military, though I had not anticipated you would pursue it."

John nodded, drawing his lips between his teeth, looking everywhere but at the man whose marriage he'd broken, trying not to think of the possible meanings behind Kanan's words. His hand rose involuntarily to the back of his head, ruffling his drenched hair.

"I... uh..."

Kanan said nothing as he gestured to the end of the settlement, his hand rising to follow his head. John turned slightly in the direction he'd indicated before turning back and nodding to him again. He wanted to say something but he didn't know what. And he was pretty sure he didn't want to say it in the presence of the entire village.

Quickly, quietly he continued his journey to the end of the make shift street and he stopped short of the flap that would gain him access to Teyla. This was as far as his plan went. He hadn't really thought of what to say, his conversations from earlier having been interrupted by the blasted rain. He shuffled his feet and winced at the squelching sound that came from his boots. Taking a deep breath he took a step forward, raised his hand for the door chimes before laughing slightly at his own bad habits (he'd even been doing it back on Earth) and pushed the curtain aside.

The room was as he remembered the one on Athos. The deep red of the tent walls were highlighted by the flickering candles scattered across the room. The floor was carpeted with thick rugs of gold and ruby and auburn that he had no inclination to dirty with his muddy boots. He could hear splashing from the other side of a partition to his left and he smiled as he heard the gurgle of laughter from what could only be Grae.

Staying still had never been so hard.

He could see the edge of the bed through another partition in front of him, the emerald through he had given her for Christmas one here strewn across the end. He smiled at that but refused to let his mind think of what that meant. He turned his head from side to side taking in the various items on different surfaces: the urn Rodney had given her; the silver rattle Carter had given her for Doran; the (blunt) knives Ronon had given her for both Doran and Grae; the little pieces she'd picked up from various different worlds they'd visited. He smiled. He'd never felt more at home.

When he turned back to the partition, he saw her frozen to the spot, her eyes wide and fixed on him. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes traversed her body; the lilac and grey top she wore showed off more than enough skin for John's blood to start boiling, the skirt even more so. He let the breath out slowly through his nose as his eyes reached hers again, before sliding to the wriggling mass on her hip. He battled his legs to keep them from motion.

She didn't say anything as she slowly turned from him but he caught the frown before she' completely turned. He didn't say anything as he let her go through the partition to her bedroom. He stood there for a few more minutes, listening to the tired giggles, the incoherent murmurs of a young baby and her voice, lulling Grae to sleep.

Eventually, she returned, a long cardigan covering her body. He tried not to frown in resignation as she stopped again, staring at him with empty eyes.

"I..." He trailed off airily, the words failing to come. He glanced down, raised his hands to his face and groaned again. "I..." Men who said women couldn't reduce them to bumbling fools had obviously never met Teyla Emmagan. He tried again but the words stuck in his throat as he tried to force them out.

"What are you doing here?" She asked and John sighed.

"I'm not good... at this." She raised her eyebrow and John winced, looking away. He _really_ wasn't good at this. "I'm an idiot." He tried to glare at her when she nodded in agreement. "I... things... We..." He sighed again and shivered as a cold draft hit his back. "There are a lot of things I should probably apologise for." The words brought back memories of a happier time for them both, when neither had been burdened with the events of the past four years. She stared at him, unblinking and he realised he wasn't above begging for her to simply say he should give it no further thought. But she didn't. "I'm sorry. For everything. For... for ruining your marriage... for not being here for you... for the way I reacted when you told me about Doran... for... for... for leaving you and Grae. I'm sorry about Grae..." he trailed off again as he frowned at that. "Well, no... I'm not sorry for Grae... I'm just sorry that... that I did that... well, I'm not but I'm sorry about the consequences... not that I'm saying Grae is a consequence... well, he is but not in a bad way."

John felt like Rodney, on a bad day. He stared helplessly at Teyla, his eyes begging her to offer him a reprieve. She did and he smiled slightly.

"I understand what it is you are trying to say. I will not accept your apology."

He frowned as his jaw dropped. He knew it wasn't going to be easy but for her to so blatantly shoot him down was a surprise.

"Okay... well, not okay... give me a chance to explain what-"

"You need not explain. I know you John Sheppard. I have known you for six years." She levelled him with a stare and he gulped, his mouth snapping shut with an audible click. "And while I do not agree with your actions, I understand them. You are too good a man to leave a child behind."

He nodded mutely, then quickly shook his head.

"I didn't come back for Grae." She raised her eyebrows and he mentally kicked himself again. "Of course I _did_ but that's not the only reason I'm here. When you came to me... I knew that you were asking me to stay and I didn't. I should have but I didn't and for that, I can't even begin to explain how sorry I am. Even as I let you walk out of my room for the last time I knew it was wrong. Even before you'd walked _into_ my room, I knew it was wrong. But... but... You were happy – you said it yourself; you love Kanan and I just... I couldn't stand in the way of that and then when I saw you didn't have your ring on... I was scared, Teyla." He took a deep breath as he faltered off. He was doing quite a good job with winging it, he realised.

"You need not be scared of me." He titled his head in acquiesce but still twisted his lips in a cynical smirk.

"I guess... what I'm trying to... what I'm trying to say, Teyla... is that... I love you." He could see the surprise in her eyes though her featured never gave her away. She didn't say anything and he felt that cold pit of dread open up in his stomach. "I love you... and... and I know that, that I don't..." he sighed loudly again and shuffled his feet.

"You are wet."

He looked back to her, startled by her sudden change in topic and nodded.

"Well, it's raining," he said dumbly.

"Your leg must be sore." He nodded. "Sit."

He stared at her for a few moments before nodding and shrugging out of his jacket and shucking his feet of his boots and socks. The warm carpet was a delight for his cold wet feet. He sat on the floor in front of the fire where she'd indicated and found the heat welcoming. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his knees, absently rubbing at the cold ache in his leg. He heard shuffling as when he opened his eyes he found her sitting across from him, her arms supporting her weight, the fire casting half her face into shadow. She was beautiful. The cardigan slid open a little and his eyes found delight in the skin that was on show. They watched one another for a long moment, their eyes never leaving the others as the warmth from the fire licked at their skin.

"I knew you would return eventually but there is a part of me that finds no joy in your arrival." He tried not to let the sting of hurt show in his eyes. He needed to hear this just as much as she needed to say it. "I do not mean to hurt you but if ever we are to speak the truth..." he nodded before she even finished her sentence. He could see how difficult it was for him to say these words to him because he knew that deep down she loved him, at least half as much as he loved her. "Grae is your son, John and I will never keep him from you. But there is a part of me..."

"You don't know if you can trust me."

She shook her head slightly.

"I have given myself to you twice before and yet you have still left me, still let me return to Kanan."

"Teyla, I'm sor-"

"Do not apologise. I know you were doing what you thought was right for me at the time. But my pride cannot be mended as easily as my heart." He winced but kept the apology on his tongue at bay. "Your people say that time heals all wounds. My only hope is that your time on Earth healed yours. My son does not need a broken father."

John frowned but a smile tried to creep onto his face. He stilled his hand when it tried to reach out to her.

"I've come to terms with a lot of things- I've _realised_ a lot of things while I was on Earth. I need this, Teyla... I need you. I knew it when I made my decision to go back to Earth but my place... my _home_ , it's here. With you." She smiled evanescently and he could swear there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. He didn't comment on them though as he tried to mask his own. "Can you trust me to make this right?"

She pursed her lips and appraised him with an unyielding stare. He let her do it. He knew she needed to. He needed her to. The minutes passed by like hours as he watched her. He knew that the next words from her mouth would be their making, or their resolution. If she couldn't trust him, he'd only be the father of her child and love her from afar as he had been doing for so long. If she did, not only would he be the father of her child but he'd make sure she knew he worshipped every fibre of her being, as he should have been doing since he'd met her.

She lowered her lids and he held his breath, his throat clogging as his eyes filled. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, trying to burst through his rib cage. Trepidation was like a whale that swam in the deep of his gut and he wanted to close his eyes against the pain he was sure he was about to feel but he couldn't take his eyes from her. The firelight glistened against her hair, alighting her skin with a sun kissed glaze that he wanted to touch, to devour.

"I have faith that you will try."

It wasn't quite what he was looking for but it would do. He knew it was all she could give him. He'd hurt her and although it wasn't what he wanted, it was more than he expected. She rose and he watched her through misty eyes, afraid to blink in case the tears rolled down his cheeks.

She held her out for him and he let her pull him up. He let her take his hand and guide him to her room. He let her cover him with the throw he'd gotten her while she lifted a dozing Grae from his cot. He held his arms out and she watched as he cradled the bundle to his chest. He let the tears trickle down his face. As she sat next to him, one hand on the still tiny head of their son, John couldn't resist the urge and placed a gentle kiss on her temple. She let him lean against her, exhausted.

And as he lay there with her fingers in his hair, their son cradled in his arms, John knew that the words travelling through his mind needed a certain kind of eloquence that only silence could possess.


End file.
